


a collar full

by arcaine



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Co-Parenting a Vampire Kitten, Friends to Lovers, Human/Vampire Relationship, Humor, M/M, Mild Blood, Urban Fantasy, Vampire Bites, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24210718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcaine/pseuds/arcaine
Summary: Xiao Dejun is not a killer. He’s still getting used to the whole ‘being a vampire’ thing, okay? He's trying his best not to hurt anyone. Everything is under control... until the incident with his neighbor's cat.Thankfully, Liu Yangyang doesn't seem too upset about his new vampire kitten.
Relationships: Liu Yang Yang/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 52
Kudos: 464
Collections: Weishen Fest: ANYTHING BUT HUMAN





	a collar full

**Author's Note:**

> for weishenfest: anything but human— prompt #abh177 ♡

Xiao Dejun is a vegan, thank you very much. Just because he’s been turned into a vampire doesn’t mean he’s about to throw his moral compass out the window. He has no plans to start ripping out throats or sucking blood, be it human _or_ animal. 

It’s finals week when it happens— getting killed, that is. He’s making a midnight run to the Circle K, planning to grab enough caffeine to keep him up until he finishes his final rhetorical analysis paper and enough sugar to keep him from having a complete breakdown in the meantime. The little GS25 outside his apartment doesn’t have the brand of espresso that he likes the best, so he always goes down the street to the bigger convenience store for snacks. Always. Even if it’s three in the morning and he’s pretty much sleepwalking his way through the city. 

In hindsight, it’s a comically bad idea. One of those _what could possibly go wrong?_ ideas where things are absolutely sure to go wrong, where you end up getting your veins drained out onto the gravel by a vampire in the alleyway— how was Dejun supposed to know he was a threat, really, the guy looked nice until he was close enough to see the blood on his face— and dying with a triple shot almond milk espresso still in your hand. 

The espresso can is still on his kitchen counter. He doesn’t really have a use for it now. 

Coming to terms with death is easy— mostly because Dejun doesn’t remember actually _dying._ Even the _getting killed_ part is a bit foggy in his memory. He vaguely remembers a searing pain in his neck, a consuming darkness filling his head and body before everything went blank, but then there’s nothing— until the point where his heart jump started itself and he woke up in the gravel. Dejun hadn’t even called 119 because he didn’t know what to tell them— in the back of his mind, he must have known the truth, that there was really only one explanation for his current condition and a hospital visit as a vampire wouldn’t end well for him. Instead, he’d dragged himself back to his apartment, and he’s been lying in bed in a state somewhere between life and death ever since. 

By the time he finally gets up, walks into the bathroom, and sees himself in the mirror still covered head to toe in his own blood, Dejun’s only thought is _shit, I’m gonna need more than a Tide stick._

Coming to terms with being a vampire is harder. Dejun is definitely in denial, the first few days. It’s not that vampirism is out of the question— it’s a very real threat in this city, but he’s desperately trying to avoid the reality that he’s contracted a case.

He can’t avoid it for long, though.

It’s like a hangover on steroids. Dejun is tired, nauseous, and just straight up not having a good time. He looks pretty pale, but he passes that off as a finals-induced pallor. The blood all washes off in the shower, but the mark on his neck doesn’t budge, a disgusting red scar accompanied by a horrendous purple bruise spanning half of his neck like a monstrous hickey. Dejun is good with concealer, but this is going to be significantly harder to cover up for presentations than the results of his hook up with Kunhang back in February. 

On his third day of undiagnosed vampirism, Dejun accidentally falls asleep with the blinds open. He was up late with a headache and one last project to finish, trying to spy on his weird neighbor, the one who’s always in his kitchen at three in the morning headbanging to something on his laptop. He falls asleep around 5 am after finally hitting “submit”, accepting that finals have turned him nocturnal and ready to celebrate the last day of the semester by sleeping through it— ready to wake up on Monday and find that this has all been a severely messed up dream.

Instead, he wakes up at dawn to a blinding ray of sunlight falling through the slit in the blinds and a scorching heat burning his arm. Like, actually burning. 

He tests it a couple of times, hoping that somehow, maybe, the pain was just a fluke. It wasn’t. A searing pain erupts in his fingertips every time he flutters them in front of the sunlight, scorching when he finally reaches over to yank the blinds closed. 

_Shit._

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Dejun’s sanity was relying on him waking up this morning and finding out that being murdered in the streets of Sinchon by a cannibalistic human mutation was all a double shot induced fever dream. He rubs his fingers over the scar on his neck that he can no longer keep telling himself _just happens to look like teeth marks_ , not when the image of fangs lunging for his throat keeps flashing in the back of his mind. He pinches himself in the arm just in case, which only results in a sharp pain and a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

_Is the universe really cruel enough to turn him into a vampire?_

Dejun grabs his laptop, accepting defeat in the confines of his bedroom and its room-darkening shades, and lets the cold blue light of his laptop wash over his face as he swallows his pride and types _“signs you’re a vampire”_ into the search bar. 

**showing results for “signs youre a vampire”**

https://www.wikihow.com/how-to-become-a-vampire

_Step 1: Find a vampire to bite you. Step 2: Be certain that this is what you want. Step 3…_

https://www.webmd.com/vampirism

_Becoming a Vampire — Humans are turned into vampires by other vampires after being bitten, drained of blood, and subsequently killed. If you think this is you, please call 119…_

https://www.koreaboo.com/ten-idols-who-we-think-are-vampires

_#1: LOONA’s Olivia Hye: There’s no way Olivia isn’t hiding a set of fangs. We’ve never seen any of the LOONA members make an appearance during the daytime, so it could be possible. #2: Hyungwon from..._

**showing results for “how long can vampires last without blood”**

https://www.wikipedia.com/vampires

_The exact amount of time a vampire can go without feeding is unknown, but studies show that most vampires weaken after three days without feeding, and enter a state of bloodlust once they reach a week without ingesting blood._

**showing results for “vegan vampire alternatives?”**

_error loading page. please try again_

The searches are mostly hopeless, but Dejun keeps scrolling, praying for anything useful. He doesn’t know a lot about vampires, hasn’t really had any interactions with them save for the one that just murdered him and that one _really_ weird night in Itaewon, but he knows enough. Vampires in Seoul are wanted criminals— being affiliated with a coven can get you life in prison, or if you’re a vampire yourself, a stake through your chest. If you choose not to join one, then you’re just a walking target for the local hunters looking for an easy kill.

Those options don’t really work with Dejun’s agenda. If someone is going to permanently kill him, he would at least like to die with a degree. And he is not, no matter what the circumstances, going to start eating people _or_ animals for lunch. As long as nobody knows he’s dead, he’s gonna keep it that way. Xiao Dejun is alive and breathing and is going to finish out his goddamn senior year, as far as the rest of the world is concerned. He reaches for his bag of candy, opens up the course registration browser, and switches the catalog to “browse online courses”. 

By the time the sun has fully risen, Dejun is fast asleep again.

☽

How long _can_ a vampire last without drinking blood? Excellent question. The answer: thirteen days, eighteen hours, and approximately twenty minutes. 

That’s how long Dejun lasts between waking up outside of the Circle K and running into the cat on the sidewalk. 

He made it the first week just fine. Things are going shockingly well for him so far. If he doesn’t think about it too much, he can almost forget that he’s dead. He switched himself to online classes for fall semester, has been hiding out in his apartment during the daytime napping and binging dramas, and for seven whole days, he’s been taking nightly outings and getting takeout from his favorite ramen place without any issues. That’s one thing they don’t tell you about vampires— they still get hungry for like, real human food. All the time. He was not expecting to be this hungry, but if anything, his appetite has increased. 

There’s a layer to the hunger that no amount of miso ramen can quench— something below the surface that eats away at him, growing stronger with every passing day. He knows what it is, but he tells himself he can ignore it. He can be stronger than this new part of his biology that has him thirsting over the pulse of the cashier who rings up his tofu and the squirrel who scampers past him on the park bench. 

Dejun is not a killer. He is not throwing years of commitment to veganism out the window just because he _died_. What a waste. If he could do it as a human, he can do it as a vampire. He shoves the burning feeling away, buries it deep down and ignores the way he salivates when he can sense someone’s heartbeat. He can live with hunger— or so he tells himself, until the second week, when the goddamn _cat_ appears. 

It’s drizzling, the neon lights of the city reflecting shades of red and blue in the puddles in the streets as Dejun trudges home with another box of late-night takeout in his arms. Thank god for the surplus of twenty-four hour restaurants around campus. It’s almost midnight, which means that on his new routine, he’s overdue for lunch. He’s exhausted; he stayed up until almost eleven in the morning the day before trying to catch the new episode of this new historical drama and now he’s severely regretting it, head aching, bones feeling like they’re made of lead as he trudges back up the hill towards his apartment. He’s cold, really cold. He’s also starving, and honestly, Dejun knows that the rice cakes in his takeout box aren’t going to be enough to curb his hunger. He was about to jump out of his own skin waiting in line in the crowded shop, surrounded by warmth and — but he’ll be fine, _really_ , as long as he can make it the rest of the way without running into anyone. 

Or anyone’s… cat. 

Shit. 

It’s a tiny little thing that stands in his way, light haired and wide-eyed, practically a baby. Dejun doesn’t even see it so much as he senses it, _smells_ it, hears its tiny heartbeat… oh god. No. _No_. This is not happening. The world is starting to spin. He shakes his head but it only makes him dizzier, the ground spiraling beneath his feet as his vision starts to blur. There’s a heartbeat pounding in his ears that builds as his body convulses.

He drops the takeout box to the ground as he feels the fangs tear through his gums, vision going red. The last thing he hears before the rush of adrenaline and the ringing in his eardrums drown out the rest of the world is the jingle of the kitten’s collar as it hits the ground.

☽

_Technically,_ Dejun didn’t kill the cat, because it came back to life three hours later. 

This is what he repeats to himself for reassurance at least a hundred times over the course of the next hour. He’s sitting in his living room, a bloody towel laid out on the ground where he had carried the cat back inside and laid it down. It was horrible, bringing it back, but he couldn’t just leave it on the street. He doesn’t remember much other than tearing off its collar and sinking his newfound fangs into its throat. The memory makes him want to throw up again— he blocks it out. 

If there was any doubt left in Dejun’s mind about his vampire status, it’s long gone. His fangs still haven’t receded fully back into his gums. He’s not sure they ever will. No matter how much cider he chugs, the taste of blood refuses to leave his tongue. It’s disgusting. He’s disgusted.

He’s going to have to live like this. Forever. That thought alone makes him want to cry, the feeling of defeat finally seeping in. The worst part is that, in the moment, that warm blood had been the single best thing he had ever tasted. If he didn’t fight it, Dejun thinks he could learn to love it. Could become the thing that killed him in a heartbeat.

He’s not going to let himself do that. He relishes in how horrible he feels. He wants to remember it. The nausea is a sign that he’s still human, if only barely. 

The cat, though, is a lost cause. 

It came back to life with a ferocious mewl, big green eyes flashing all red and soulless. It tried to bite Dejun’s arm, only to be disappointed by the lack of blood to suck out of his veins. Now it’s stalking around the kitchen, knocking over his plants and hissing at the television.

Dejun, despite it all, is kind of fond of it. It’s comforting, in a uniquely stupid way; a vampire with a vampire pet. He has a friend to vent to now, although the cat doesn’t understand the nuance of Dejun’s moral dilemma. It doesn’t have any qualms with hunting for blood, but it’s a cat, so who is Dejun to stop it? There are plenty of mice in the apartment that it can feed on. 

Maybe he’ll keep it around. 

☽

He wakes up early, 6pm. It’s cloudy, and dark enough to leave the house by 6:30. 

He’s crossing the street when he sees it— the poster. 

**MISSING**

_LOUIS_

_siamese kitten_

_9 months old_

_if found, please contact:_

_LIU YANGYANG_

_XXX-XXX-XXXX_

☽

After about two hours of debating if it’s better to return someone their cat in vampire form or to just keep it and never bring it back at all, Dejun decides to text the number. 

**XIAO DEJUN**

_hi… is this yangyang?_

**XXX-XXX-XXXX**

_Yo! who's this!_

**XIAO DEJUN**

_my name’s dejun... i saw your poster_

**XXX-XXX-XXXX**

_Omg. please tell me Uve seen that f#cking cat!!!_

**XIAO DEJUN**

_uh, yea, i have her. i can bring her over at 9?_

**XXX-XXX-XXX**

_YES!!! thank U so much! my apt is room 210 1207 Sinchon-ro, come over whenever OMG Ur my savior!!!_

210… 1207… Huh. That’s Dejun’s apartment. He killed his neighbor’s cat. _Damn._

☽

Dejun stands in front of the door for a couple of minutes, wrestling the undead cat in his arms. Pressing the doorbell feels like gambling his life away. There’s a very likely chance that explaining what happened is going to result in Dejun running for his life, but despite the risk, he feels like he has to try. 

He glances down at the cat— Louis, according to the poster, but Dejun has silently been referring to it as Fangs in his head— and sighs. 

“It’s been fun, Fangs,” he sighs. “I’ll miss you. But I’m sure Yangyang misses you more, so… god. Let’s get this over with, huh?” He closes his eyes and presses the buzzer, hoping for the best. 

Nothing happens. Dejun sighs, peeking at the closed door and pressing the bell again with a bit more confidence. A third time, for good measure. 

He hears something inside that sounds like a crash, and then someone’s fumbling with the lock. 

The door slams open, rattling against the inside wall to reveal a boy, sporting a giant pair of headphones around his neck with hazardously orange hair sticking up around his ears. He’s wearing a Gucci hoodie that Dejun is a _hundred_ percent sure is fake, balancing a can of monster energy in one hand and a bag of honey butter chips in the other.

“Liu… Yangyang?” Dejun asks hesitantly. 

Yangyang grins. “Guy who found my cat?” 

Dejun bites his lip, the cat shifting in his arms. “Yeah, that’s me. But I have to tell you so—”

Before he can even begin to explain, Yangyang is out the door, wrestling the cat from Dejun’s arms and cuddling it up to his chest. 

“You’re so _stupid!_ ” He scolds, holding the cat up to his face and glaring into its eyes. “I leave the window open for five minutes and you take a fuckin vacation! We’re on the second floor, dude, you probably used up like half of your nine lives! You’re _so_ fucking lucky this guy found you before Hyuck noticed that I lost you, or he’d probably stab me,” Yangyang threatens. 

That… seems a little extreme, but Dejun ignores it. “Look, there’s just one thing,” he admits. “Something happened.”

Yangyang pauses, shifting the cat around in his arms. “What do you mean? He looks fine.”

As if on cue, the cat bites down on Yangyang’s forearm, satisfied to find a real living human with functioning veins to sink its fangs into. 

“AGH—” Yangyang fumbles, backing up into the doorway. “What the hell!” He tries to pry it off his arm to no avail. Its fangs have fully latched on, he’s unable to free himself. After a moment of panicked flailing, just as Dejun moves to try to help, Yangyang opts to simply dump the remainder of his drink on the cat’s head. It works— the cat dislodges its teeth, flailing around in distress to find itself covered in energy drink. 

“I told you,” Dejun insists, stepping forward to look at the bite. Yangyang dangles his arm out awkwardly, shaking off the soda droplets and staring down at the tiny bloody teeth marks. 

“He doesn’t— he doesn’t usually do that,” Yangyang insists. “He’s a really nice cat. Did he bite you too?” He looks worried on Dejun’s behalf, which just makes Dejun feel guiltier.

“Not… exactly,” Dejun mutters. _More like he bit it._ “Um.”

The cat whirls around again, red eyes flashing as he hisses in Yangyang’s face. 

“Woah,” Yangyang says, leaning back and staring wide-eyed at the creature in his arms. He holds the cat out at arm’s length, a slightly horrified look growing on his face. “What happened to his eyes? And his... teeth?”

Dejun’s gonna have to tell him sooner or later, so he might as well just spit it out. 

“So. Please don’t be mad,” he sighs, “but I accidentally turned your cat into a vampire.” 

Yangyang’s eyes double in size. “Wait, _what?_ ” 

☽

The door to Yangyang’s apartment shuts behind them as he leads Dejun into the living room, wrestling the cat into a small travel carrier in the corner and slamming the door shut. Its red eyes glint from inside, glaring at its owner through the gaps as it hisses against the bars. 

Dejun fumbles for the nearest lightswitch, because apparently, Yangyang had been hanging out in almost total darkness before he showed up. It’s hard to see anything. A lamp flickers on and he almost recoils.

The living room is a mess, empty cans and chip bags littering the coffee table amidst a tsunami of papers and notebooks. There are some old books, and a strange deck of cards splayed out on the floor. Dejun’s eyes might be fooling him, but he thinks he spots one of those creepy Ouija boards tucked underneath one of the chairs. Over on the counter, a laptop is flipped open, running some sort of music software. The blue light of the screen beams in the dimly lit kitchen, and the sound of muffled rock music drifts in from down the hall, bass booming behind one of two closed doors at the end.

Yangyang exhales, running a hand through his already unruly hair as he stares in shock at the cat carrier. He turns back to Dejun, eyes wide. 

“So, like, what exactly am I supposed to do?” he asks. “How do I fix him?”

Another wave of guilt washes over Dejun. “You, uh, you can’t,” he explains, fiddling with the frayed sleeves of his sweater, a nervous habit he can’t kick. “He’s dead. Undead. Vampirism isn’t curable.”

“Undead.”

“Yeah. Look, I didn’t know… well, I didn’t _mean_ to do any of this, but even if I had, I didn’t know that this would happen…” 

Yangyang narrows his eyes. “Okay, wait. Let me get this straight. You’re telling me _you_ turned my cat into this?”

God, Dejun’s never felt more mortified in his life. He wants to run out the door, but he owes it to this guy to explain what happened, to at least _try_ to help him. To make up for it. “I’m sorry. It was an accident,” he pleads. “I didn’t mean to, you have to believe that.” 

Yangyang just stares at him. “So you want me to believe that _you're_ a vampire?”

Dejun shifts uncomfortably. “Uh. Yeah?” 

“Really?” Yangyang cocks his head. “I’ve never met a vampire before. You don’t look very dead. You’re, like, cute.” 

Dejun _really_ doesn’t know what to say to that. 

He ignores the phantom blush that warms his cheeks— he’s pretty sure he can’t actually blush anymore, there’s not enough blood in the capillaries— banishing the word _cute_ from his brain as he tries to muster some composure. This isn’t playing out the way he was expecting, to say the least.

“This isn’t, like, the slightest bit concerning to you?” he asks Yangyang. “Some guy shows up, kills your cat, and tells you he’s a vampire and you’re not, I dunno, scared?” 

Yangyang takes a step away from the cat carrier, leaving Louis hissing behind him. “I mean, no?” he replies, tilting his head as he walks closer. He looks at Dejun like he’s inspecting him, evaluating him. “Nah. Not scary. No offense, but you don’t really look very threatening,” he says. “If it weren’t for the cat, I don’t think I’d believe you.”

Dejun actually does find himself a bit offended by that. He tugs the neck of his sweater down with a huff, revealing the bite mark scar that adorns his neck like the world’s worst tattoo. (Dejun always wanted a tattoo, but he was thinking like, maybe roses or something. Teeth marks were never what he had in mind.) The bruise has nearly gone away, but the scar will stick around on his neck forever, the mark of the bite on his skin. “You wouldn’t believe me?” 

Yangyang scrunches his nose. “That could totally just be a hickey,” he insists. “Aren’t you supposed to have, like, fangs or something?”

Dejun glares at him. This kid is ridiculous. Yangyang has no idea what he’s talking about. Dejun hasn’t endured the past two weeks of hell just to get told he “isn’t scary” or whatever. If he’s going to be a vampire he might as well own it. He curls his lip, reluctantly letting the fangs he _just_ got to go away slide back down through his gums, pressing against his bottom lip where they protrude from his mouth. 

“Like these?” he asks, and he means for the words to come out threateningly, but he can’t help the fact that the oversized teeth give him a little bit of a lisp. It ruins the sentiment. 

Yangyang grins. “Yooooo. That’s _dope._ ” 

Is he serious? Absolutely zero self-preservation instinct with this guy. Dejun frowns, fangs still poking at his skin. 

“I could bite you with them, you know,” he insists. “I could kill you! Right here in your living room!” 

“Nah, you couldn’t,” Yangyang laughs, squinting at him curiously. “You definitely won’t kill me.” 

“Okay, whatever!” Dejun narrows his eyes and pushes past him, irritated that even as a literal vampire he still can’t manage to gain the upper hand in any arguments, willing the fangs to sink back into his gums so that he can stop having to work with the goddamn speech impediment. And the drool. The fangs make him drool so badly, it’s so gross. He wipes away at the corner of his mouth with his sleeve as he walks over to the cat carrier. 

“Look,” he tells Yangyang, “This is serious. You have a problem here. Vampirism isn’t easy to deal with, okay? I don’t really know a lot about undead animals, but he’s going to be hard to take care of. I have no idea what he might do. I just know he needs blood. That’s the only way to get him to stop freaking out and go back to normal... temporarily.” 

Dejun wishes he had anything helpful to offer. He doesn’t even know if all of the human vampire rules apply to cats, like sunlight and silver. Honestly, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to test half of the rules of vampirism on himself. He turns back to Yangyang, who’s still just standing in the middle of the living room— there’s not really anywhere in here to sit, the couches are a disaster— staring at him. 

Yangyang glances warily at the cage. God, he’s definitely more scared of the cat than he is of Dejun. It’s so insulting. 

“What am I supposed to do, then?” Yangyang asks, clearly exasperated. He glances down at his arm, the little teeth marks still bleeding. “I can’t just let my cat drink my blood forever! That’s gross, and like, super unhygienic or whatever. We’ve gotta figure out something else.” He points at Dejun. “You got me into this, you have to help get me out of it.” 

“I know,” Dejun agrees. He’s about to offer an idea when he’s distracted; the distant sound of the music goes silent, and the door at the end of the hallway swings open.

A boy about their age steps out, busy typing up a message on his phone as he approaches. He’s dressed completely in black, long legs with ripped jeans and a leather jacket like the kind they sell at those expensive vintage stores. His t-shirt falls below his collarbone, revealing the beginnings of a large black tattoo, some sort of occultist-looking symbol that Dejun doesn’t recognize inked right over his heart. A silver cross hangs from his neck by a chain. He’s got combat boots on— even though he just came from his own bedroom, who wears boots _indoors—_ and a belt with those little holsters on it. Very punk. Something’s tucked into his jeans. No, not _something—_ a knife. This guy totally has a knife in his jeans, half-concealed, handle poking out above the waistline.

“Oh, hey, Hyuck!” Yangyang calls cheerfully. “Dejun, this is my roommate, Donghyuck. Looks like we caught him just before a big night out! You got big plans, man?” 

Donghyuck leans against the wall, lowering his phone and narrowing his eyes. “Who’s this?” he asks, hand resting on his hip. His jacket rides up ever so slightly, revealing something else tucked into the back pocket.

It looks like a stake.

Dejun stumbles backwards. _Shit._ This is bad. He’s dead. He’s so, so dead. 

“I-I gotta go,” he stammers, fumbling with the door handle and backing himself outside, dashing off into the night. 

☽

_2 new messages_

**LIU YANGYANG**

_Dejun? where’d U go?_

**LIU YANGYANG**

_U can’t leave me here with this damn cat, dude. Not Cool!_

☽

Dejun, for some incredibly stupid reason, agrees to go back to help Yangyang with the cat.

It’s risky. Stupid. Borderline suicidal, in fact. There’s not a shred of doubt in Dejun’s mind that Lee Donghyuck is a vampire hunter, and probably a good one. He looked like someone who kills things for a living. The outfit, the crucifix, the stake… Dejun’s certain Donghyuck is well versed in the monster world and has killed things far more powerful than himself. 

So why the hell is he agreeing to walk back into his house?

Mostly, it’s because Liu Yangyang will not stop blowing up his phone. God, he sends the most irritating texts. It’s also a little bit because Dejun still feels crushingly guilty about the cat. He’s honestly a bit scared for the cat’s well being, leaving it there; more concerned than he is for his own well-being, apparently, because he has deemed a visit to check up on it a worthy risk of his undead life. 

So he’s going back. To help the cat and clear his conscience. Dejun just wants to get this cat problem solved so he can stay as far away from the resident vampire slayer as he can. He certainly doesn’t have any further interest in risking his life just to hang out with Liu Yangyang— that’s ridiculous. It would be a stupid trade-off. Sure, Yangyang is cute, but not _risking-your-life-to-see-him-again_ cute. Dejun only agrees to go back in the end because Yangyang swears that his roommate has left; apparently, Donghyuck has left for the weekend for a “retreat” with his friends, and won’t be coming back until Sunday. Based on the overly detailed description of Donghyuck’s friends that Yangyang provided, Dejun is at a loss for words as to how he hasn’t picked up on the fact that his roommate hunts monsters. 

“You seriously had no idea that the guy you live with kills supernatural creatures?” 

“I mean, no? It’s not like he showed up and introduced himself as Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

“Okay, but he goes to the ‘club’ with a knife in his pants?”

“Bro, self defense!” 

“What?”

“I’m serious! The clubs here are crazy...”

“Yeah, so you bring pepper spray? He had a stake! Who the hell even has a stake?”

“Shit, I dunno! This is crazy. I could have gotten you killed. I’m so sorry.”

Yangyang is wrestling with the cat again, eyes glued to his computer screen. They’re splayed out on the living room floor, laptops back to back, laying on their stomachs as they search the ends of the internet for advice on house training a vampire kitten. 

Dejun blinks, glancing up from his screen, where he’s been occupied by the subreddit r/occultpets. 

“You’re sorry?” he asks. “Dude, you don’t owe me shit. I killed your cat.” 

Yangyang laughs. “Yeah, but now I have an immortal vampire kitten. I see that as a win for me.”

“Not if we can’t figure out a way to keep her safe,” Dejun insists. “Vampirism is high maintenance. And dangerous.”

“Well, I’ve only met one vampire so far, and he’s not really very scary, so I think I have a bit of a warped perspective,” Yangyang replies, prying Louis off of his shoulder where he was poised to sink his fangs into his arm again. Yangyang’s arms are already covered in tiny teeth marks. It’s only been twenty-four hours, but the cat has managed to do quite a bit of damage to him. 

Dejun frowns. “To be fair, I’ve only been a vampire for like, a couple of weeks, so I’m kind of new at this. And obviously not very good at it,” he sighs, gesturing to the cat. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I mean, you could be murdering _people,_ ” Yangyang points out. “Give yourself some credit, man.” 

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Why aren’t you, anyways?” Yangyang lowers his laptop screen, narrowing his eyes in a fake-accusatory manner. “Feeding on people out in the streets, I mean. That’s what vampires do, right? We have people out there trying to hunt them down for a reason. But you’re nothing like that, the whole monster stereotype. Why are you all _nice?_ What’s stopping you from feasting on my blood right now?” 

What’s… stopping him? A million things, starting with Dejun’s general views on morality and ending with his apparent insensitivity to blood consumption. 

“To be honest? I just can’t stomach it. It’s horrible,” he tells Yangyang. He lowers his voice, unsure why he’s admitting to this. “I don’t know how I’m going to keep this up. I can’t kill things, I really can’t. I don’t even eat meat. Shit, I don’t even drink _milk—_ ugh, that blood made me sick,” he admits, feeling nauseated all over again just thinking about it. “It was the worst.”

Yangyang raises an eyebrow at him. “Wait, are you a vegetarian or something?”

“Vegan.”

“Huh. Vegan vampire. How does that work?”

“It doesn’t, apparently,” Dejun sighs. “I’m working on it.” 

“Well, if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know,” Yangyang tells him. “Although I don’t have any other pets to offer you.”

Dejun’s not sure why he’s insistent on continuing to make jokes about that, but he has to admit the fact that Yangyang doesn’t seem to give a single fuck about the situation is helping ease his guilt. 

“How are you not mad?” he asks, exasperated. “If I were you, and some vampire killed my cat, I would have turned him into my terrifying vampire hunter roommate in half a second and gotten revenge.”

“I told you, I didn’t _know_ my roommate was a vampire hunter,” Yangyang argues, pointing a finger at Dejun. “We still don’t know for sure. I’ve never even noticed him with a stake until you saw it. I just thought, he’s got weapons, he’s hitting up some really sketchy clubs with his creepy little friends. You should see the shit this Jaemin guy wears. They’re seriously punk, kinda goth, the weapons blend right into the whole vibe.”

“Or they’re all hunters,” Dejun insists. “They probably _are_ going to sketchy clubs— places infested with vampires, monsters. Maybe even demons.” Demon hunting is significantly less common than ghost hunting or vampire slaying, but from what Dejun has heard, there’s a market for it. You’ve got to dip more than just your toes into the supernatural world to get there. He wouldn’t like to run into a demon, but there are people out there who have. 

Yangyang raises an eyebrow. “You know, he came home with blood on his face once, but he said it because he drank too much and fell on the subway stairs. I should have known that was bullshit.”

Dejun shifts uncomfortably, taking another glance at Donghyuck’s door down the hallway. It is so, _so_ stupid of him to have come back here. What if Donghyuck comes back? If he figures out what happened to the cat, he’ll definitely figure Dejun out. And then he’ll kill him. 

Yangyang catches him staring. “Hey, Dejun,” he calls softly. “You know I’m not gonna tell him, right? And, like, I’m not gonna let you get hurt. You’re helping me. If he really kills monsters, I’ll make sure he knows you’re off-limits.”

Dejun’s heart skips, trying to pump the limited amount of blood left in his system. God, how did he get himself into this situation? Yangyang is so nice. Genuinely, unapologetically nice, and Dejun couldn’t deserve it less, but he’s so tempted to accept the kindness anyways. But he can’t. If he’s being realistic, one cat’s circulatory system isn’t gonna be enough to keep him stable for long. He needs more— he can feel it, the hunger that never goes away, the sickening dread, the thought that never leaves his head: _who will I hurt next time?_

Yangyang’s kind, but it’s nonsensical for him to protect a monster like Dejun. 

“Why?” he asks again. “Why help me, Yangyang? You have no reason to keep someone like me safe.”

“Someone like you?” Yangyang frowns. “Isn’t being like you a good thing? Come on. You’re a vegan vampire who doesn’t commit murder, who put his life at risk to help his neighbor take care of his undead pet. You’re really not striking any fear into my heart.” He grins. “Also, I seriously need your help. You’re the only person who can help me deal with this little shit. I don’t really have another choice.” 

Dejun swallows, glancing at the aforementioned cat— its eyes glowing red again as it lets out an angry hiss— and at Yangyang’s persistent smile. God, what has he gotten himself into this time?

☽

The next weekend, they meet up again. When Dejun arrives at the door, iced latte in hand and backpack filled with potential cat-training supplies, he nearly has a heart attack at the face who opens the door. 

Lee Donghyuck flashes him a twisted grin, yelling over his shoulder. 

“Yangyang! Your date’s here!” 

His da— _what?_ Oh god. Does Donghyuck think they’re dating? Did Yangyang tell him this was a date? Is that how he’s getting Donghyuck out of the house so they can take care of the cat? It’s not the worst alibi, but… Dejun freezes up, afraid to speak and risk Donghyuck somehow figuring him out. 

Something crashes around the corner. Yangyang, to be specific. He skids over to the door, mismatched socks sliding across the apartment floor as he seems to have realized what’s happening.

“Dejun— you’re early,” Yangyang laughs nervously, pushing his roommate out of the way so Dejun can step inside. “Donghyuck was just leaving. Right?”

“Yeah, chill out. I’m heading to Nana’s,” Donghyuck says, throwing his jacket over his shoulders. No stake this time, but Dejun can still see the imprint of a knife in his back pocket. He's wearing all black again— it must be all he owns— save for a white tee shirt that reads _Poison Control_ in red english letters. Not really earning him any fewer points in the ‘edgy’ category. “Don’t worry,” he winks. “You guys can get it on in peace.”

“Oh, no,” Dejun protests, but Donghyuck has already stopped paying attention to him, turning towards the door and catching it before it falls shut.

“I can’t believe you got someone to come back for seconds. That’s impressive,” he tells Yangyang, waving over his shoulder as he ducks out. “Have fun!”

Yangyang shakes his head, waving a hand frantically. “It’s not like tha—” he starts, but the door slams shut before he can finish his argument, Donghyuck already gone.

Yangyang runs a hand through his hair awkwardly, glancing back over at Dejun. “Uhhhhh,” he mumbles. “Sorry about him. For the record, I didn’t tell him... anything about, ehm, a date. I guess I was just acting funny and trying to get him out the door so he jumped to conclusions...”

“It’s alright,” Dejun insists, waving him off. “I’d rather have him tease me than try to kill me, right?” 

God, now that he’s thinking about it, the nature of Dejun and Yangyang’s relationship does make them look pretty bad. A couple of meetups in the late hours of the night, always hanging out inside the apartment and not going out and actually doing anything, never meeting up during the day and doing normal stuff… Granted, this is only the third time he’s been over, the second time Donghyuck has seen him here, but it’s still embarrassing. 

It might just save his skin, though. It’s the perfect excuse.

“Yeah. But I’m sorry, I know I promised you I’d make sure he was gone before you showed up, just to be safe,” Yangyang says. “I couldn’t get him out any faster.”

“It’s alright. He really didn’t seem to think twice about me. Maybe you should just let him think… whatever he wants to,” Dejun suggests, hoping he sounds casual right now. “He won’t be as suspicious of me if he thinks we’re, uh, hooking up? And he certainly won’t stick around while I’m here.”

Yangyang nods, still awkwardly fiddling with his hair and not making eye contact with him. “Huh. Yeah. I guess— Yeah, that could work,” he says. “If you’re worried about it, we could use a good cover story. Although it’s a bit unrealistic of a story— for me. He wasn’t just being a dick, he was being real. I never have people over twice. Not intentionally or anything— just doesn’t happen. Almost never with guys. _Definitely_ not with guys like you.” He clears his throat, abandoning his rambling, suddenly very focused on the strings of his hoodie. “I’m just, uh, not sure how long he’s gonna believe that you’re here for dinner and a movie before he gets suspicious,” he mutters, almost to himself.

Either Yangyang severely underestimates himself, or Dejun is just a bare minimum kind of person, but he can’t believe Yangyang doesn’t think Dejun could even pretend to be into him. Being around Yangyang has already become the highlight of his week; he’s funny, makes Dejun laugh so hard that his face starts to hurt sometimes, and actually cares about him for some stupid reason. Also, despite his horrendous style choices, he always seems to look cute. Meanwhile, Dejun spent ten minutes trying on different sweaters before he came over because he _totally_ didn’t care that he looked nice and _definitely_ wasn’t trying to impress his new neighbor. God… posing as his neighbor’s boyfriend isn’t exactly what Dejun signed up for when he agreed to help catsit, but he can’t say he would mind the company. 

“It’s fine,” he laughs. “I used to act. I bet I can convince him.” 

“Yeah?” Yangyang glances back up and cracks a smile. “Better be careful, then. I’m very charming and easy to fall in love with.” 

“You just told me you never get second dates,” Dejun points out.

“That’s— whatever,” Yangyang pouts. “We should get back to the problem. What’ve you got?”

“I brought some toy mice,” Dejun says, unzipping his bag, “A syringe, some band aids, a thing of garlic powder, and an LED flashlight. You ready to get creative?”

Yangyang nods, reaching into the bag and dangling one of the toy mice by its tail. “Heck yeah. Let’s get to work.”

☽

As the heat of the summer begins, they meet up every Friday in Yangyang’s living room, after Donghyuck leaves again for the weekend to go do some totally-not-monster-hunting with his other totally-not-monster-hunter friends. If he’s being honest, Dejun has sort of started to find himself spending the rest of his week looking forward to the weekend visits. Without schoolwork, his solitary vampire life is extremely uneventful. He trusts Yangyang not to get him killed (at least not on purpose), and he doesn’t really have a lot of other friends who are willing to hang out in the middle of the night. Honestly, he hasn’t really spoken to any of his class friends since the whole alleyway incident, unsure who exactly he can trust with the information that he has died and is now sporting a set of fangs. 

Is Yangyang his friend? It’s weird to befriend a dead guy who killed your pet, let alone pretend to be dating him for convenience, but Yangyang doesn’t seem to have any moral qualms about it. In fact, he’s committed himself to trying to catch his roommate red-handed and figure out the truth about his potential monster-hunter status, sending Dejun live text updates.

**LIU YANGYANG**

_Hes washing a knife but he totally didnt cook anything._

_Sus!_

**XIAO DEJUN**

_agreed_

**LIU YANGYANG**

_New guy came over and gave Hyuck a jar of smth weird_

_might B a drug deal. some crazy crystal shit_

**LIU YANGYANG**

_OK, not drugs_

_Tastes ljke salt_

**XIAO DEJUN**

_you tasted it?????????_

**LIU YANGYANG**

_...No_

At this point, they’re pretty sure Dejun’s suspicions are right: Lee Donghyuck hunts monsters. There aren’t a lot of other excuses for his choice in martial weapons as accessories, let alone the other suspicious behavior. It makes Dejun more concerned than he lets himself show, but Yangyang has promised Dejun that he won’t let Donghyuck find out about him or the cat, and so far, he’s holding up his end of the bargain. In terms of the cat, Yangyang actually managed to come up with a decent solution, albeit a slightly criminal one. 

“You stole _what?_ ” Dejun splutters, leaning so far back on the kitchen stool that it tips backwards, and he has to grab onto the counter to steady himself. 

“A blood bag,” Yangyang says. “Three, actually.” 

Dejun’s stomach churns at the image in his head; three bags of blood just sitting there, ready to sink his fangs into. It’s been over a week again, roughly ten days since... he ate. Last time, it was a bird, and it tasted so bad that Dejun doesn’t even wanna think about it. The feathers… ew. Regardless, he’s much weaker than he was last time they met. Maybe it’s his humanity finally fading, the last of his own blood finally drained from his system, but Dejun’s body is failing. His muscles burn, his head hurts, and his stomach aches like nothing else. 

“Three?” He asks. It comes out sounding pathetically hopeful.

Yangyang nods. “Yeah… I wasn’t sure how much the cat would need? But you said we need to feed him if we want him to stop acting crazy, and the rest of our tricks haven’t been working. So I just took as much as I could fit into my hoodie pockets,” he says. “I can get more. If we need it.” 

Huh. Three blood bags is way more blood than a nine pound kitten needs, and they both know it. One bag is more than enough to last them for a while, until they can figure out a better solution. But Yangyang stole _three,_ and was allegedly hoping to take even more if he could… he’s not very good at being subtle, and the look in his eyes confirms Dejun’s suspicion. 

He may just be hopeful, but he’s fairly sure Yangyang stole that extra blood for _him_. 

“Uh,” he replies. “Yeah. Uh. I have no idea how much he’ll need,” Dejun stammers, avoiding eye contact and the thought of the two extra blood bags sitting in the fridge with his name on them. Would he even be able to drink them? He has no idea if it was the blood or the murder part that made him sick the first time, or if it was a combination of the two. “Let’s just try feeding him,” he insists.

“Okay,” Yangyang agrees, still looking at him all funny. “Should we just… pour it? In his bowl?”

“Might as well?”

“Okay. Lemme grab the stuff.”

Yangyang says _the stuff_ like he’s talking about hard drugs, which is a thousand times funnier when he opens the fridge, taking out a box of… applesauce pouches. He’s storing the blood bags in a box of gogo-squeeze. 

“You want one of these?” Yangyang asks him, gesturing to the box. “They’re vegan, I checked.” 

“That’s kinda morbid,” Dejun says, wrinkling his nose. “Wait, you checked? Did you just buy that?”

“Uh. Yeah. Hyuck thinks applesauce is gross, and the bags kinda blend in, so I figured it would be a safe hiding place? I didn’t have a lot of other options,” Yangyang insists. “I had to keep it somewhere. Besides, you could use more snacks.”

“Ah. Well, I’m not— not hungry. But thanks.” 

“Sure.” He shuts the door, setting the applesauce box on the counter. “Okay, you wanna grab a bowl?” 

Dejun slides Yangyang a dish as he pulls a pair of scissors out of a drawer and pulls the first blood bag out of the box.

It’s sealed, but the second Dejun sees it, his stomach turns. _Oh god._ That’s eight ounces of human blood, right in front of his starving, bloodthirsty vampire eyes. He grips the counter, screwing his eyes shut as his heart rate picks up in his chest. His head is pounding— as if his heart can sense the blood it craves to pump through his veins. 

“Dejun?” He hears Yangyang’s voice, feels a tentative hand on his arm. “Are you good?” 

“I think…” he trails off. “Just, uh, I need a second,” he insists, turning away from the blood bag and fixing his gaze on the ceiling. 

Yangyang steps back, laying the scissors down. “I know I asked for your help with this, but it’s okay if you’d rather not,” he insists. “I’d rather you don’t get sick in my kitchen.”

There he goes again, deflecting the obvious danger here with a joke. Dejun might not be a killer, but he’s still a monster, and it’s still risky of Yangyang to stick around by his side no matter how much he insists he needs Dejun’s help in this situation. To let him loose around human blood when neither of them know what could happen.

His heart rate calms a little, but he still feels his stomach shift when he looks at the blood bag.

“I can help,” Dejun insists. He can. “I want to help, Yangyang. I can do it. I have to learn to control this at some point, I can do it.”

“Okay,” Yangyang says warily, fingers trailing off his arm as he reaches for the scissors again. 

And Dejun really wants to be able to do it, but the second Yangyang cuts open the bag and the smell of the blood floods his senses, everything starts to spin. 

_Uh-oh._ Yeah, Dejun has drastically underestimated just how hungry he is. 

He turns on his heel and races out of the kitchen, slipping a bit on the tile as he rounds the corner and throws himself inside the small bathroom, locking the door behind him. The world spins around him, dizzying as Dejun falls over the sink and heaves, trying to clear the phantom taste of the blood from his tongue. He only really sensed it for a second, but it’s too late. The fangs are sliding through his gums again. 

Dejun can’t control it. Not now. He’s too starved— his body too desperate to give into his biology. This was a stupid idea. He shouldn’t have agreed to help with this, he’s putting Yangyang in danger just by being in the same room as him in this state. He’s never been around human blood, not since he became a vampire, anyways— he should have known it would be a thousand times worse than the blood from the animals, too powerful to resist. That it could take over his head if he lets it.

“Dejun?” Yangyang calls, voice muffled from outside the door.

“Yangyang, don’t open the door,” Dejun insists. God, the lisp is back. _Fuck_ these stupid teeth. “Don’t come in here, I’m serious.”

“Are you… okay?”

God, _that’s_ what he’s concerned about? Yangyang...

“I’m fine, I just... I need to stay out of there until you’re done. With the blood,” Dejun rasps. “I’ve got it under control, I think, but I just can’t— I can’t be around that. It’s too dangerous. I don’t wanna hurt you, and I think I might not be able to stop myself… I haven’t been around human blood yet, I didn’t know how strong it was gonna be. If I go into bloodlust, I don’t know what I might do. I could literally kill you, okay? So I need to get this under control,” he says, “And you’re gonna have to handle the cat part for now. I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet for a long moment. “You don’t have to apologize, Dejun,” comes Yangyang’s muffled voice again. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay? Don’t worry, I can feed him by myself, just let me know when it’s okay to open the door again.”

Yangyang’s either oblivious to the danger, brave, or just a straight up idiot, but Dejun doesn’t have the energy to dwell on it. He falls back against the door, clutching his knees to his chest and trying to calm his racing heart, willing his vision to stop spinning and his fangs to recede back into his gums. He’s gonna control it. He’s got it under control.

“Just let me know when the blood is gone, and I’ll go home,” he insists.

☽

He loses track of the time, but eventually, he stumbles back out the bathroom door. 

“Woah— Dejun. Are you okay?” Yangyang runs over, throwing him a concerned look. “You look like…”

“A corpse?” Dejun jokes weakly, straining to breathe. His chest feels tight. The muscles burn when he tries to take a breath, and his limbs all feel heavy, like they’re made of metal. 

“Well, kinda,” Yangyang agrees. “You look bad.”

“I feel bad. I need to go,” Dejun mutters weakly, stumbling for the exit. Trying to force his vampire side into submission has taken every last bit of energy that he didn’t have. “It’s not safe for me to stay here like this. I’m sorry. Did the cat— did it work?”

“Yeah, actually— it didn’t work, at first, because he didn’t like the plate? He wanted something to sink his fangs into, I think. So I had a stupid idea— I took the kitchen sponge and I soaked all the blood off the plate, handed it to him, and he loved it. Tore right into it. It’s his new favorite chew toy,” Yangyang proudly proclaims. “I think I can keep him under control with that.”

Dejun smiles. “That’s good,” he sighs. “I’m glad he doesn’t have… the same problem that I do…”

A wave of dizziness washes over him again, and he doesn’t mean to, but he falls into Yangyang’s side, trying to catch his balance.

“Woah, hey,” Yangyang says, steadying him. “Dejun, are you sure you can make it back? I’m not sure you’re gonna make it to your door.”

“I can… it’s fine, I’m fine. I just need to rest,” Dejun lies. He very much does not _just need to rest._ He needs to drink some blood, and he needs to drink it _now_. That feeling before? That wasn’t repulsion. That was bloodlust, threatening to take over his entire body. Dejun knows that the second he gives into it, he’ll lose all control, like he did before but a million times worse. If he doesn’t stay inside, he’s going to hurt something again. 

Or someone. No matter how much faith Yangyang places in Dejun, it won’t be enough to protect him if Dejun goes into kill mode. 

“I’m going with you,” Yangyang insists. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Yangyang—”

“No,” Yangyang insists. “Listen. You’re helping me with the cat, and I’m helping you with _you,_ okay? You could get caught like this, someone could hurt you. Just let me make sure you get inside without getting staked or something. Is that a deal?”

Dejun being indebted to Yangyang was the whole point of this deal in the first place, but he doesn’t have a drop of strength left to protest. He lets Yangyang drape his arm over his shoulder and lead him towards the door, grabbing something from the countertop on his way out.

Weirdly enough, being close to Yangyang isn’t making him want to break out the fangs again. The blood bags made him frenzied, the cat’s blood made him sick, but this? The heartbeat of a boy inches away from him, arm wrapped around Dejun’s torso as he lets him lean into him, doesn’t make his mouth water or his incisors protrude. It should. It happens when he’s out on the streets, keeps him from taking the subway or waiting in a crowded line, but it’s not happening now. Instead, Yangyang’s touch is comforting. Dejun lets his eyelids droop as they make their way out the door. 

“Good thing you live so close,” Yangyang mutters. “I bet you’re gonna be out by the time we get upstairs... There’s gotta be something you can do. You can’t live like this, dude.”

“I have to,” Dejun sighs. “I don’t wanna hurt anyone, Yangyang.”

“I know. But you keep hurting yourself.”

Better he hurts himself than the boy carrying him home, Dejun thinks.

☽

When Dejun wakes up, the box of applesauce is sitting on his counter. The little post-it note attached to the top reads,

_I know you’re hungry. I think you need this. Now that it’s safe, I want you to have it. If you need more, I know where to get it._

_-YY_

☽

Dejun debates it for a few hours. Human blood: two bags of it, neatly packaged and surrounded by a punch of packets of strawberry apple squeeze. Chilled and ready to eat. What are the moral consequences of drinking from a blood bag? 

On one hand, it was a donation. On the other hand, Yangyang stole it from a children’s hospital blood drive. 

But god, it isn’t hurting anyone, right? They can get more. And it isn’t going to make him sick, he’s almost sure of it now, after the cravings he felt at the mere scent of it before. This is what he’s meant to drink, whether he likes it or not. It’s time to stop avoiding his reality and start trying to control it. If Dejun keeps starving himself or feeding on stray animals, he’s gonna snap, and he might hurt someone by accident if he loses that control. Yesterday proved that. He needs to be stronger, and there’s only one way to do that.

He’s gotta suck it up. Mentally and physically. 

“Okay,” he says to himself. “You can do this. Just… open the bag and drink it. You’re a vampire.”

He debates going to grab a pair of safety scissors, but he doesn’t think he’s gonna be able to bring himself to do this if he doesn’t just _do it_. The vampire way. So before he can talk himself out of it, Dejun lets the fangs slip through his gums and plunges his teeth into the plastic.

It’s instant— the biological reaction, the way the instinct takes over as soon as the first drop of blood reaches his tongue. _God,_ Dejun has been hungry. He closes his eyes, trying not to look, not to think, just letting himself devour it, letting his senses flood with the taste. 

It’s dizzying, addicting, rendering him into some sort of drunken state as he loses his restraint and furiously sucks up more, more, more. The small part of Dejun’s mind holding onto his sanity thinks it’s a good thing he’s alone, because he can feel himself being taken over. It’s nothing like the animals, like the cat or the bird or the nausea he remembers afterwards. This is something different. He doesn’t feel sick— he feels strong.

Is this the way it feels to become a killer? It’s addicting. It scares him. His mind fades away, head submerged in a drunken feeling of satisfaction.

At some point, he returns to reality. Dejun has drained the bag dry, the plastic hanging loosely from his chin where it’s still punctured by his tooth. He pulls it away, feeling the blood drip down his chin. Glancing at the window, he catches his reflection, his lips stained with blood, splatters of crimson flecked across his cheeks. He certainly looks like a monster, but he has to admit, he looks far better than he did before. The pallor is fading from his cheeks— there’s a color to his face, liveliness in his eyes. 

It’s ironic, that he looks more human the less human he becomes. 

Dejun glances at the empty blood bag. He’s not really sure how long it took him to finish it— somewhere between thirty seconds and thirty minutes, who knows. He wasn’t fully in control of his own mind with his fangs submerged in the blood, his head floating and his body heavy. There’s no trace of sickness, of nausea, just a residual drunken pleasure that makes his body feel a bit numb. 

Dejun feels guilty. This is what he’s been dreading— to learn that he can enjoy this, that he can tear things apart and drink himself high on human blood and _like_ it. 

Would he be able to do that to a person, if it made him feel the same? 

☽

**LIU YANGYANG**

_U find your lunch? Haha_

_hope Ur feeling better..._

**XIAO DEJUN**

_yeah, actually_

_i’m… feeling a lot better_

_thank you, yangyang_

**LIU YANGYANG**

_No problem!!_

_Theres more where it came from. LOL_

**XIAO DEJUN**

_you mean the children's hospital????_

_no way_

_im not stealing from any more sick children_

**LIU YANGYANG**

_If U insist..._

_U know, Ten got a job @ the plasma center_

_so if UR cool with stealing from scientists instead, we can do that!!!_

**XIAO DEJUN**

_the fuck_

_how do you have so many criminal connections_

**LIU YANGYANG**

_[sunglasses emoticon] [smirk emoticon] [drip emoticon]_

**XIAO DEJUN**

_im not even gonna attempt to decode that_

☽

Once he has a taste of it, it takes all of Dejun’s willpower not to down the other bag.

 _Save it_ , he tells himself. _You’re gonna need it later._ Because he will. He’s not sure when he’ll be able to get more, so for now, this is his lifeline.

He throws the empty blood bag into the trash, sitting down at the countertop with a sigh and checking himself out in his phone camera. There’s nothing left to do but ignore the temptation to open the fridge back up and tear open the second bag. He’s bored— usually, he would head back to Yangyang’s place again on Saturdays, but after freaking out last night Dejun doesn’t feel like he should go back over. Also, Yangyang is always the one to invite him, since, after all, they are only meeting up because Yangyang needs his help, and Yangyang hasn’t texted him again. But it’s weird— hanging out with Yangyang is part of his routine now. Dejun wishes he could head back over, play with the cat and listen to whatever new track Yangyang is working on as they mess around in the living room. He’s not really sure why Yangyang even asks him to come over anymore, since most of the time, they end up just talking and hanging out. Until last time, anyways, when Dejun’s episode ruined the party. Maybe he scared Yangyang off for good. 

He flips through the camera app, amusing himself when he finds a vampire filter. It turns his eyes red, adds little drawn-on fangs that hover over his bottom lip. Dejun doesn’t have a clear memory of what he looks like in vampire mode, since he never really stops to check himself in the mirror when he’s raging in full blown bloodlust, but he’s sure it’s not as flattering as this filter is. 

He takes a few photos of himself, wondering if he’s feeling more confident because of the full stomach or the residual bloodlust or the cute little fang doodles that the app puts under his lip. It’s been a while since he’s posted a photo of himself. Maybe he should change his profile photo. Is it idiotic to change his messenger app photo to a vampire filter? Is that being too obvious? 

Why is he even changing his photo at all? His old photo is fine… it’s just, maybe if he changed his picture, someone would notice and send him a message. He’s so bored right now that he’s considering thirst trapping his friends. He’s down for literally anyone to hit him up at this point. He hasn’t seen Kun in a while, maybe he should message him. Maybe he’ll cave and finally text Kunhang back. 

Or maybe he’ll just send it to Yangyang. Yangyang would think it’s funny. He’ll send it to Yangyang because Yangyang will get the joke and it will be funny, and then he’ll be less bored, and it’s totally not a thirst trap because Dejun doesn’t actually miss Yangyang like _that…_ right?

☽

**XIAO DEJUN**

_[1 image attachment]_

_scared of me yet? lol_

**LIU YANGYANG**

_AHHHHHHHH_

_[laugh emoticon] [scream emoticon]_

_Nahhh. U look cute_

☽

Dejun makes it six days before he tears open the other blood bag. 

It’s harder to resist than before. Knowing that whenever the pangs of hunger hit, he has another eight ounces of A positive waiting in the fridge is pure torture. He hates how much he craves it— how easily his body gives into its biology. It’s torture, fighting off the need to feed.

So, when he wakes up on Friday night, head throbbing and stomach aching, salivating where his fangs are already poking against his lip, Dejun doesn’t fight it. He stumbles out of bed, slams open the fridge, and sinks his teeth into the second blood bag, sucking it in. 

He feels the blood rush through his veins again, feels his head spin as the high sets in with more intensity than the first time and takes over his mind, his world dissolving into a warm haze as his limbs grow heavy and his mind foggy. He gives in, lets himself be taken over by instinct because god, he’s been so hungry, and it feels so good. He drinks himself stupid, doesn’t stop until he’s drained the bag dry— and then he sees it. An unread text message from Liu Yangyang. 

_Shit._ It’s Friday. 

The message is short— it just reads: _20:00! Issa date!_

Dejun glances at the clock. It’s 19:56. 

He can’t stand Yangyang up. Obviously he’s joking and it’s not _actually_ a date, but Dejun still can’t believe he almost missed it, too distracted by waking up hungry to realize what day of the freaking week it was. He’s been looking forward to seeing Yangyang again all week, has to thank him for helping him and make sure he returns the favor and helps him out with the kitten— although the past few times they’ve hung out, it’s been less kitten training and more just talking and joking around with each other. That’s what Dejun has been looking forward to, honestly. 

Well, he’s just eaten, at least, so it’s fine— he’s certain he won’t cause any problems this time. Not like he did last week. Dejun’s full, and quite frankly, a little drunk on the taste of the blood that still lingers on his tongue. His body feels heavy, his limbs tingly. There’s a cloudy feeling in his mind, his thoughts all running into each other as he grabs a coat and slips on his shoes.

Dejun isn’t going to let this make him late for his fake date. 

He hurries over, knocking frantically when he makes it to Yangyang’s door. It briefly crosses his mind that Donghyuck could open the door again, and he’d _certainly_ be able to smell the blood on Dejun’s breath, but it’s too late to worry about that one so he just hopes for the best.

Wow, it’s really cold out. Dejun shivers, tugging his jacket tighter around his shoulders.

Yangyang swings the door open right away, much faster than his usual reaction time. He must have been waiting for him. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he tells Yangyang. “I, uh, lost track of time.”

Yangyang frowns. “What the hell are you dressed like that for? It’s, like, a million degrees out tonight.”

What? It’s freezing. Dejun glances down at his jacket as he steps inside, struggling to get himself out of it. “I dunno. I was cold,” he sighs. He feels like he shouldn’t mention that he just downed eight ounces of human blood, and his body is in a bit of a fever state. It feels taboo to let Yangyang see that side of him. He knows Yangyang doesn’t see him as a monster, but he still wants to maintain as much of a human image as he can around him, for things to feel normal. Dejun doesn’t like to face the details of his vampire identity on his own, let alone to show them to others. “I’m not feeling great.”

“What? Then why’d you come over?” Yangyang exclaims. “You should have just told me.”

“I, uh, didn’t wanna miss the date,” Dejun mutters. “No, I’m joking, I just, uh, I’ve been looking forward to hanging out again. And I had to thank you— for the gift.”

Yangyang smiles. “Not a gift,” he says. “It was yours. I don’t need any human blood to survive, you do. Speaking of that— you look a lot better than you did last week. Not that you looked bad, just, you look… more alive now?” He hesitates. “I thought it was just the picture you sent, but your eyes are actually, like, brighter. Wow” 

Really? Dejun truthfully did not even look at himself in the mirror in his rush to get over here on time. He has no idea what he looks like. Shit. For all he knows, there’s still blood on his face from the bag. 

“I look okay?” He asks, suddenly self-conscious. Can Yangyang tell he’s just finished feeding? Is it obvious?

Yangyang looks nice. He’s just wearing a black tee shirt and a pair of black jeans, but he looks nice. Usually he wears hoodies, but— Dejun has to remind himself that this is not actually a date and he’s here on business, and he shouldn’t be checking out his co-catsitter. Who looks really cute. Whose pulse he can sense from a meter away. Whose blood probably tastes way better than the blood bags… 

Shit. _What’s wrong with him?_

“Dejun?” Yangyang waves a hand in front of his face. “You okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“I said I couldn’t even tell you were sick,” Yangyang repeats, “But now I’m thinking of taking that back, because I think your brain just glitched out.”

Dejun shakes his head, banishing the thoughts about drinking Yangyang’s blood before they can finish forming in his brain. He’s not thinking about that. He’s not still hungry, he can’t possibly be… right? Not after all of that? Shit. Maybe he should have been more careful. His vampire brain seems to still be stuck in hungry mode. 

“I’m just kinda tired,” Dejun lies. 

“Me too. It’s all good. Hey, wanna watch a movie?” Yangyang grabs his sleeve and tugs him into the living room, throwing a blanket onto the couch and reaching for the remote. “I think Donghyuck is still logged into Jeno’s girlfriend’s Netflix.”

“Uh, sure.” Dejun has no idea who Jeno or his girlfriend are, but the display tells him that ‘Yeeun’ has recently been watching a bunch of true crime documentaries and horror flicks. He sits on the edge of the couch, still fighting his brain on the weird urge he’s suddenly getting to get closer to Yangyang, brain full of blood and only thinking about heartbeats and pulses. Dejun’s still cold, and the heat of the much warmer human sitting next to him is calling to him, but he can’t listen to his own internal monologue right now. He’s definitely not in control of his head. He pulls the blanket around his shoulders, shivering. 

Yangyang looks over at him, gesturing to the screen with the remote. “What do you wanna watch? You said you liked dramas, right?”

Dejun hesitates. He does like dramas. When did he mention that? To be honest, he’s a huge fan of romantic dramas, but the thought of suggesting that they watch Titanic together feels weird.

“Ooh, what about Titanic?”

Well, it’s not like he’s gonna say _no…_

This is how they end up sharing a blanket, an hour into the 1997 Titanic, Yangyang fully captivated (he admitted that he’s never seen it, which offended Dejun to the core) and Dejun trying to pretend that he can’t quote half the film. It’s nice. They’ve been hanging out for weeks now, but despite Dejun consciously realizing that they were growing closer, he hasn’t realized just how comfortable he is spending time with Yangyang; how his face still hurts from laughing at Yangyang’s jokes, how cute Yangyang’s grin is when he’s goofing off, how Yangyang has started buying vegan snacks for him and Dejun can tell exactly how many seconds it’s going to take for Yangyang to answer the door when he comes over and finds the former busy working on a song. How they’ve gone from sitting across from one another doing research at the coffee table to bunched up together on the same side of the couch, Dejun’s heart still seeking the extra body heat and Yangyang, noticing that he was shivering, tucking an arm around his shoulder. 

Maybe it’s his blood-addled brain, but Dejun can’t get close enough today. This is so nice. Has he always been this cold since becoming undead, and he just didn’t notice until now? Until he discovered the wonders of having a very warm human boy as a personal heater?

They don’t say anything, for a while. Jack and Rose are running away from Rose’s fiance and Yangyang is focused on the screen and Dejun, having seen this part twenty times already, is getting a little too comfortable tucked under Yangyang’s arm. His eyelids flutter shut, brain weighed down by the warmth and the pine-needle scent and the sound of a pulse drumming against his ear. He shifts, and Yangyang’s arm draws him the slightest bit closer to his chest. 

“Are you still cold?” Yangyang’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know vampires could get sick.”

“They can’t,” Dejun mumbles. “It’s just... the blood, it messes with my senses.” It’s still messing with his head. Last time he drank it, he spent the aftermath alone. He hadn’t realized what he was missing, longing for the comfort of human company. Now all of his senses are working in overdrive, seeking out more body heat for reasons he couldn’t begin to explain. Maybe it’s because he’s meant to drink blood from a real, warm-blooded human, and his brain is still searching for a pulse. Who knows. “This is nice, though,” he admits. “You’re really warm.”

He feels Yangyang’s side shake slightly as he laughs. “Glad I can help,” he says, tilting his head away from the screen and glancing down at Dejun curled up by his side. “So you drank the rest of it? Today?”

“Mhm.”

“You know, I thought it would make you seem scarier, but you’re so much less intimidating like this,” Yangyang teases. “It’s like you’re drunk.”

“Kinda, yeah. More like feverish.” Intoxicated with the blood running through his veins, hyper-aware of everything around him. Dejun’s head may be cloudy, but his other senses have sharpened. He can smell the minty shampoo in Yangyang’s hair, hear his pulse with his head resting on Yangyang’s chest, feel the way Yangyang’s arm slips from Dejun’s shoulder to rest around his side as he turns to face him. Can feel his own undead heart start beating faster, picking up speed in his chest. Oh, no.

Is being turned on a symptom of drinking blood? Or is it just a symptom of the boy who’s been your only companion for weeks slowly adjusting the position of the blankets until you’re basically spooning? 

“But you’re feeling okay, right? I mean, the blood worked? It helped?” Yangyang seems oblivious to the effect this is having on Dejun, turning his attention back to the screen as Dejun pulls the blankets up to his chin.

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding for emphasis. “It worked for sure. I have my energy back, I feel better— so much better, once it's all made its way through my system and I’m not all… like this,” he explains.

“There’s nothing wrong with this,” Yangyang murmurs.

Dejun screws his eyes shut. Why is he doing this to him? Can he tell that Dejun’s getting all hot and bothered? Or is Yangyang just being genuine, oblivious to the effects of his warmth and his warm grip on Dejun’s waist? His fingertips fiddling with the hem of Dejun’s sweater, brushing against his skin as he plays with the fabric… He has to be doing this on purpose. Dejun shifts, Yangyang’s distracted movements tickling his skin.

“Sorry,” Yangyang mumbles. His fingers drop to the cushion.

“No,” Dejun breathes. “No, that’s not… I didn’t mind,” he admits. “Just ticklish.”

“You’re ticklish?” Yangyang grins. “You shouldn’t have told me that.”

“I’m not— hey!”

He dodges an attack, ducking down as Yangyang flips him over to try and get at his sides, the blanket slipping off of Dejun’s shoulders. They flop sideways against the couch, messing around with the maturity levels of literal children as Yangyang begins his attack, Dejun’s sweater riding up as he fights off this absolute gremlin who is seriously trying to tickle him, what are they, five? But he’s giggling like a maniac, and despite it all Dejun’s heart is still pounding, flustered at their newfound position with Yangyang pinning him down into the cushion, one hand on his shoulder, one hand— 

All of a sudden, the door swings open, slamming against the inside wall. Dejun jolts, whipping around and looking over his shoulder in time to see Lee Donghyuck and an unfamiliar tall, blonde boy wearing a lot of dark eye makeup step into the room. The door falls shut behind them, echoing in the awkward silence, the instrumental of Titanic playing in the background. 

“Agh! What are you two up to?” Donghyuck calls, shielding his eyes. He peeks through his hand in an exaggerated motion, peering at the television. “What, Titanic? Seriously?”

“I like Titanic,” the blonde guy pouts, slinging his book bag onto one of the kitchen stools. “Wait, is that my Netflix account?”

“Hyuck, Jeno,” Yangyang calls, sitting up abruptly from where he had been pinning Dejun into the couch in his attempt to attack his sides. “You guys are early. We were just, uhm… ah…” He trails off awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair where it’s been messed up from Dejun’s self defense. 

“Oh, I don’t wanna know,” Donghyuck snorts. He kicks off his boots, making his way into the kitchen. He’s sticking to his usual all-black look, and so is his friend, who’s also sporting an excess of silver jewelry, piercings and necklaces stacked over a black long sleeve. They’d be an intimidating sight to run into on a night out. _Hunters, they’ve got to be._ “Please spare me the details.” 

Suddenly, the blonde guy— Jeno— tenses. He pulls something small out of his pocket, a silver mechanism that Dejun would assume to be another necklace, except he’s not putting it on, he’s twisting it around in his palm, squinting as he looks for something that’s beyond Dejun’s understanding. 

Donghyuck notices him, pausing with a water glass in hand. “Jen, what’s up?”

Jeno glances nervously around the room, hesitating when he looks over at Dejun and Yangyang in the living room, Dejun still awkwardly twisted on the couch and Yangyang very focused on folding up the blankets. 

“Uhm, nothing,” Jeno replies, tucking whatever he was concerned with back into his pocket. It flashes as he puts it away, some sort of crystal. He seems uneager to explain whatever he was doing in front of them, which only raises Dejun’s suspicions. “Just noticed something.”

Yangyang glances warily at Dejun. “Well, if you guys are gonna stick around, we’ll just finish Titanic another night,” he suggests, extending a hand to help Dejun up off the couch. “It’s getting late anyways.”

“Yeah,” Dejun agrees, maybe a bit too hastily. He’s not sure what Jeno’s deal is, but Dejun has a bad feeling that he knows something. He notices tattoos on Jeno’s arm, too— symbols that Dejun doesn’t understand, but he has a bad feeling about nonetheless. This apartment really isn’t the place for a vampire to hang out, not right now, anyways. “I’m not feeling too well anyways, I should really head home.”

That part isn’t even a lie. Dejun needs to get home and clear his head, still recovering from whatever just went on between Yangyang and himself over the past half hour, head clearing and finally starting to process what he’s been thinking. _Feeling_. He needs a minute.

Donghyuck smirks, taking a sip from his water glass. As Dejun and Yangyang walk over to the door, Dejun notices a fleck of what looks like dried blood on Donghyuck’s collarbone. 

“We’re just stopping by to take a break and grab something,” Donghyuck insists. “We’re gonna go back out and meet up with Nana and Injun in a few minutes. You guys are chill.”

“No, really,” Dejun insists. He should go. Hanging out with Donghyuck for even a minute is not a part of his plans, and Jeno is kinda freaking him out too. Neither of them still seem suspicious of him, but there’s something they’re not telling them, and Dejun doesn’t want to risk it. He needs to get home.

Yangyang grabs his coat, gesturing for Dejun to hold out his arms as he slips it over his shoulders. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles as he swings open the door. “I wish, uh, wish you could have stayed.”

The look in his eyes finishes the sentiment for him, making Dejun’s heart pick up one last time as Yangyang smiles at him. They clearly feel the same way about whatever was brimming between the before that door opened— the tension burns Dejun’s cheeks as he thinks about it, fingertips on his skin, playful laughter in his ear, teetering on the edge of something that seems to have been fluttering inside of both of them since they met, something that took a bit of blood-drunken clinginess and lighthearted cuddling to draw out of him. 

It’s the most alive he’s felt in weeks.

☽

_“Did you know that the recommended daily value of human blood for vampires is 8 ounces? Dude, if that was human calories, you’d be, like, hospitalized by now for starvation.”_

_“It says here that ancient vampires used to be able to fly. How dope would it be if you could fly?”_

_“Apparently it’s possible to drink the blood of another person without killing them, but the human has to form this, like, weird bond with their vampire ‘master’. Do you think that’s some sort of daddy kink thing? Like, do they have to be all ‘Yes, Master…’”_

“Did you know you have mind control powers?”

Dejun frowns. They’re on the couch, Saturday night ticking by, the cat happily occupied with another bloody sponge as _Eclipse_ plays on the TV. After their attempt to watch Titanic had been foiled last weekend, Yangyang thought it would be funny to have a Twilight marathon. Dejun wasn’t very amused, but Yangyang jokingly told him that he was “a way sexier vampire than Edward Cullen, for the record” and they’ve been sharing a blanket again for the past three hours so overall he’s not too mad about it. They even split half a bottle of soju and ate out of the same takeout dish, and at this point Dejun is about to lose it with the tension, because both of them still refuse to break past the wall they were teetering around last weekend. Instead, they’ve simply been watching, Dejun tucked under Yangyang’s arm again as they laugh at all of the vampire inaccuracies. But Yangyang has gotten bored of making fun of the CGI and has started googling “vampire facts” again, and Dejun has had enough. He entertains a lot of what Yangyang tells him, but he draws the line with this one. He doesn’t have fucking mind control powers. 

“That’s bullshit,” he insists. “What are you reading?”

“An academic source, thank you very much. It ends in dot org.” Yangyang wiggles his eyebrows, grinning as he continues to read his newfound article. “It says that if you’re looking for something to feed on, you have ‘heightened sensory influence over weaker minds’.”

“Heightened sensory— that’s bullshit,” Dejun repeats. 

“Try it. Mind control me,” Yangyang says. 

“What? No way. That’s stupid.”

“Pleeeease? I wanna get vampiritized.”

“What?”

“Like, vampire-hypnotized? C’mon, at least _try_ it. If the other vampires out there can do this shit, you’ve gotta practice so you can hold your own if you ever have to fight one of them for me.”

“I’m not fighting anyone for you, they can have you.”

“Rude.” Yangyang squints at him. “I bet you can’t mind control me anyways. My mind is _definitely_ stronger than yours. I’m probably immune” 

Awh, hell no. Dejun might not embrace his killer nature, but he’s still an immortal being. He is absolutely stronger than Yangyang in a subconscious battle. “You always underestimate me,” he complains. “I could literally murder you if I wanted to. I _choose_ to be friends with you.”

Yangyang just stares at him, still squinting.

“What are you doing?”

“Mind controlling you first with my superior brain.” 

“Are you for real? What are you trying to make me do?”

“I’m not telling you, that’ll ruin it.”

Dejun shoves his arm. “You can’t mind control me, Yangyang. Vampires don’t have mind control in the first place and you _definitely_ don’t have it. Cut it out.” 

Yangyang catches his arm, tossing the blanket to the side as he dives over and pins Dejun’s arms to the couch, a mirror of where they werea week ago. He hovers over him, grinning furiously as he stares into Dejun’s eyes, refusing to blink. He’s inches from Dejun’s face, nearly going cross eyed as he looks down at him. Dejun can hear his pulse again. 

His heart speeds up. “W-what are you doing? Get off me!” 

“I’m trying to use _heightened sensory influences,_ ” Yangyang whispers. “Is it working?”

Is his goal to make Dejun have a heart attack? Because then it’s definitely working. He laughs nervously, attempting to evade Yangyang’s grip to no avail. Yangyang is way stronger than he looks. Dejun should probably have some sort of supernatural strength, but he’s pretty sure that only happens in bloodlust, and even if it does he has no idea how to control it. He’s laughably weak to the ridiculous advances of Liu Yangyang.

“I don’t know,” Dejun laughs. “Is what working?”

Yangyang pulls his gaze away from Dejun’s eyes, staring down at his lips. 

_Oh._

Dejun freezes, heart pounding in his chest, eyes flying shut as Yangyang dives down with a hint of a grin and closes the gap between them and he’s _kissing_ him, and all Dejun can think is that he doesn’t remember feeling this warm even when he _was_ alive.

As quickly as it starts, it ends, Yangyang breaking away and Dejun blinking up at him, letting out a stunned laugh as their eyes meet.

“You know,” he breathes, “It doesn’t count as mind control if I would have done it anyways.”

☽

**LIU YANGYANG**

_I miss U!!!_

_Wish we could hang on the weekdays [angry emoticon]_

**XIAO DEJUN**

_it’s been 2 days_

_… but i miss you too_

_can’t wait to see you again_

**LIU YANGYANG**

_omg_

_Date this weekend...??_

_Like_

_A real one_

**XIAO DEJUN**

_i’ll be there :]_

☽

Dejun wakes up to a pounding noise coming from the door, pulling him from the warmth of a dream where he was walking out in the daylight again, the sunlight on his face and someone with familiar red hair holding his hand. 

He groans, raising his head and glancing over to check the time. 18:02. _What the fuck._ Nobody should be at his door this early. Nobody should be at his door at all, really.

The pounding continues. He rolls out of bed, groggy as he shuffles into his slippers, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. It’s cold inside the apartment. He glances out the window to find a heavy stream of rain pouring down against the glass; as if on cue, lightning flashes, thunder shaking the walls.

Who the hell is at his door in the middle of a thunderstorm? Actually, scratch that. He has a hunch. There’s only one person it could be, after all. 

He swings open the door, shielding his face from the gust of wind that carries in the rain, blinking up to find none other than Liu Yangyang. 

“Hi,” Yangyang says. 

He’s soaking wet, his hair dripping all over his face. Wide-eyed and still catching his breath, he looks rushed, like he ran all the way over. He doesn’t seem to have brought so much as an umbrella. 

“You’re early,” Dejun groans, his shoulders sagging. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Yangyang blinks. “What?”

“It’s seven pm,” Dejun says. “I just woke up.”

“Wha— ohh. Yeah.” The realization spreads across Yangyang’s face. “Sorry. I know I don’t usually— It’s just— can I come in? It’s important.”

It’s at that point that Dejun notices the flecks of blood splattered across Yangyang’s cheek, and the— oh my god— the _cat_ squirming around inside the folds of Yangyang’s raincoat. 

“Come in,” he agrees, ushering the sopping wet boy through the door. Yangyang tries to shake the coat off, but it only results in showering the floor of Dejun’s entryway with rainwater. “Are you okay?”

The second the door shuts, Yangyang releases the cat. It jumps out of his arms, racing down the hallway into Dejun’s bedroom, out of sight, clearly having had enough of being smuggled out in the rain and dealing with either of them.

“Yangyang, what _happened?_ ”

“Donghyuck happened.” 

“Wait, _what?_ ”

Yangyang paces into the living room, flopping onto the couch and launching into a story.

“So, I get home… I open up the door…” 

Long story short, Yangyang is now “a hundred and ten percent sure” that his roommate is a vampire hunter— because when he walked through his front door, Donghyuck was in the middle of plunging a stake through the heart of a very bloody fanged figure on their kitchen floor. Two of his friends— Renjun and Jaemin, apparently— had been with him; both covered in blood, one of them lighting a blunt.

Yangyang hadn’t asked any questions— just grabbed the cat and ran. 

“There was blood everywhere, I mean _everywhere._ I know we _knew_ they were up to some fuck shit, but still— they never come over, never do anything freaky _in the apartment_ — I never thought I’d actually witness anything like that. It was nasty. Also, the whole apartment smells like smoke now, man. I had to get out of there.”

Dejun pulls the blanket tighter around himself. Another flash of lightning streaks outside the window, thunder rumbling in the distance. He walks over to the couch, curling up on the unoccupied end and glancing over at Yangyang. 

“Thank god you got the cat out of there,” he says. “It’s lucky he didn’t already start freaking out!” 

“I know,” Yangyang sighs. “I mean, I know we saw this coming, but now that I _know_ , I can’t believe I’ve been keeping Louis there this entire time. Shit, I’ve been bringing _you_ over all this time! I could have gotten you both killed!”

Dejun has to agree, this was all pretty stupid of them. The truth is, he has ended up enjoying their time together more than he ever thought he would, and safety has taken a backseat in his mind ever since. Yangyang has distracted him. Made him forget that he’s something dangerous. Their weekends together have been the normality that Dejun doesn’t deserve to hold onto, but he still wants to, desperately. He doesn’t think he can give Yangyang up, not now. Not after the other night— He’s in too deep. 

They’re in this together.

“I mean,” Dejun starts, nervous to make such a bold offer, “Maybe... we could keep him here?” 

Yangyang looks up at him. “What?”

“Here,” Dejun insists. “The cat. I could take him.”

“You want to keep Louis with you?”

“Look, you could come over and see him whenever you want. I could even give you a key, if you wanted— so you could come see Louis. Because he’s your cat. But you don’t have to worry about coming all the time if you don’t want to, it’s totally fine, I can take care of him— I can handle the blood bags now, I can control it— if you don’t want to, I get it, but if you wanted—”

“Dejun.” Yangyang tugs at the blanket, silencing him mid-sentence. He threads his fingers into the crochet pattern, tugging it down from Dejun’s shoulder. “It’s a great idea.”

Dejun blinks. “Wait, really?”

“Yes,” Yangyang insists, smiling softly. The thunder rumbles again outside the window, making the walls tremble. Dejun has always felt comforted by the rain, but something about this particular storm is filling the room with a tense sort of electricity. He shivers.

“I’ll take really good care of him,” Dejun says. It comes out soft, almost a whisper. “I promise.”

“Be honest,” Yangyang narrows his eyes playfully. “Has this just been a plot to steal my cat from the beginning?” 

Dejun laughs at that. “I would never,” he insists. 

“Never admit to it, sure,” Yangyang teases. He grabs Dejun’s hand, lacing their fingers together playfully and giving him a reassuring smile. “Thank you, Dejun.”

Well, if it’s a plot to get Yangyang to hang out on his couch more often, Dejun wouldn’t admit that either. 

☽

Dejun quite enjoys having the cat around his house for two reasons. 

The first reason is that he has some company again. It’s been lonely spending most of his time hiding out by himself, and having Louis prowling around the halls brings him some amusement. He’s gotten better at controlling himself around blood lately, so he doesn’t even mind feeding him. Sometimes he and the cat eat together; Yangyang holds up his promise, and makes a weekly delivery of smuggled blood bags. 

The second reason is that Yangyang stops by exponentially more often. 

He finds a reason to stop by almost every day. Whether it’s because he ‘just wants to see the cat’ or has a blood bag delivery or he wants Dejun’s opinion on a song he’s working on or he doesn’t even have a reason at all, he’s always over, and they always end up curled up together on the couch. Yangyang never fails to make him smile, to fill the nights with laughter and chaos that is more than welcome compared to the monotony of Dejun's solitude. 

Their date nights have migrated from Yangyang’s place to Dejun’s, as the former is now off limits. They’ve also evolved into _actual_ date nights, the need for the ruse lost with the need to meet up at Yangyang’s and with that damn kiss, the one that never leaves Dejun’s mind. They’re still tentative, playful, but they both know that there’s no pretending left when it comes to the way they feel. Yangyang has made himself comfortable, left a couple of hoodies behind on ‘accident’, crashing on Dejun’s couch when the nights get later and later and he’s less and less eager to leave. Dejun has to admit that it’s hard for him to resist the urge to curl up together, the warmth of curling up together on the couch painful to part with as he slips into his own bedroom at the end of the night to hide from the oncoming rays of sun. 

Today, though, they’re both in the bedroom. Their time together was cut short by Yangyang getting caught up with his roommate— after the incident regarding the stabbing in their kitchen, Donghyuck came clean about his side profession, and for the past week he has been actively trying to recruit Yangyang into the world of monster hunting, which Yangyang has been persistently denying. Apparently, he’s “totally vampire slayer material,” which is super ironic. Yangyang has managed to shake them so far, but playing neutral is a dangerous game.

Anyways, it’s later than they were planning to meet up, the early hours of the morning, so in an attempt to steal a few more hours together from the sunrise, they’ve curled up in Dejun’s bedroom, one of those lo-fi playlists playing on Dejun’s shitty speaker and Yangyang curled up beside him as he scrolls through his Instagram feed and resists the urge to fall asleep. They’re both tired, but at this point, they just enjoy each others’ company.

“I can’t hear your heartbeat,” Yangyang announces, his abruptness startling Dejun enough that he drops his phone.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, no heartbeat. It’s freaky.”

“It has to beat, though, right?” He questions, his palm flattening on Dejun’s chest. “Like, something has to move the blood through. Isn’t that how biology works? Shouldn’t your organs be rotting and your skin falling off if your heart doesn’t beat? You know, morbid rigis, or whatever.”

Dejun snorts. “ _Rigor mortis?_ ”

“Yeah, that. Fuck off, Dejun, you knew what I meant.” 

He laughs. Yangyang is ridiculous. He doesn’t seem to be asking because it bothers him, but purely out of fascination. Yangyang should really be horrified of him, of how monstrous Dejun really is— but then again, when they met, Dejun was already dead, so it’s not like this has ever been normal. 

“It does still beat,” He insists. “Faintly. You can’t feel it, unless I’ve just... fed _._ ” 

Yangyang’s eyes widen. “Like, on blood?”

“No, on _almond milk_. Yes, dumbass; on blood.” Dejun rolls his eyes, trying not to make eye contact with Yangyang’s intrigued expression. The look in his eyes is making Dejun feel weird. “But you know I don’t drink it unless I have to. I can’t.”

“You could,” Yangyang blurts out. “I can think of an easy solution. Where you could drink it whenever you needed to, without hurting anything.”

Dejun freezes. He looks back up, meeting Yangyang’s gaze, unprepared for the devilish grin that glints back.

“Nuh-uh. I-I’m _not_ drinking your blood,” he splutters. “No way.”

Yangyang pouts. “I’m not good enough for you? You’d rather have—” he glances down at the most recently discarded blood bag on the nightstand, squinting at the name “— _KIM, JUNGWOO, 22, 180CM, 60KG?_ Wait, shit. I’d rather have him too. Never mind,” he says with a resigned sigh.

Dejun laughs. “It’s not that you’re not _good_ enough,” he explains. “Trust me. I’ve thought about it. A few times. I just… don’t think I could do it. I don’t want you to see me like that. I don’t want you to think of me as a monster, even if I am one.”

“Dejun, I’ve never thought of you as a monster, and I never will,” Yangyang tells him.

He’s deadly serious, none of his usual lighthearted manner in his voice. He dances his fingers across Dejun’s chest, mimicking the pattern of a heartbeat. “I mean it. Ever since you showed up on my doorstep with the cat, I’ve had it in for you. I don’t care if you’re a vampire or a human or something else entirely. I just like you.” He smiles to himself. “I like watching you play with Louis and hearing you sing to yourself when you think I can’t hear you and the faces you make when you laugh at my really stupid jokes— and I _don’t_ like seeing you looking tired or sick or upset. I can’t help but care about you. So, I dunno, I want to help. I just want to be whatever you need.” 

It’s the most serious sentiment that Dejun has ever heard from Yangyang’s mouth, and he’s absolutely speechless. He really cares about Dejun. _Wants to be whatever Dejun needs—_ even if that means letting Dejun drink his blood. 

Yangyang, the boy who brought the missing sunlight back into Dejun’s life. Who should hate him by all means, but instead chooses to… 

“I never thought I’d say this, but god, I’m so glad I killed your cat,” Dejun says, and he pulls Yangyang in by the collar of his hoodie, latching onto his lips and pulling him in for a kiss. 

It isn’t the first kiss they’ve shared since the one on Yangyang’s couch, but it’s different from the ones that have happened in between— not so playful, or so tentative. Yangyang leans in, without a drop of hesitation, his hand moving to cup the side of Dejun’s face as he angles his head and presses Dejun into the pillow, insistent. 

There’s a certain warmth that Dejun feels with Yangyang’s lips on his skin that burns hotter than anything else he can remember, save for maybe the way the sunlight does. It’s the first thing that Dejun thinks every time he feels it, and this is no different as he melts into the blankets, hands slowly relinquishing their grip on the sweatshirt collar. 

They break apart, a stunned look on Yangyang’s face as Dejun’s eyes flicker back up to meet his, curling into a smile before he dives over, doing a one-eighty and laughing into the kiss as he pins Yangyang down. Yangyang’s hand winds into his hair, pulling him closer.

When Dejun finally breaks away, gasping for air, Yangyang’s hand falls down to his jawline, wrist angled right under Dejun’s nose, he feels it— Yangyang’s pulse, racing, echoing in his head. No matter how hungry Dejun has been, no matter how desperate, he has never given into the call of a human heartbeat before. It’s a dangerous line to cross. Yangyang’s words echo in his ear. 

_I can think of an easy solution._

_I just want to be whatever you need._

Is this the answer Dejun has been looking for? Could he… would he like it?

Yangyang has noticed the way Dejun is staring at his wrist, at the purple vein. “Go ahead,” he says, voice a little raspy. “It’s okay.”

“I…” Dejun trails off. He bites his lip.

“It’s okay,” Yangyang repeats. He pulls his arm away, twisting it so that the vein is pointed upwards, and smiles softly. 

Dejun grabs his wrist hesitantly, drawing it closer to his lips. Yangyang closes his eyes in anticipation as Dejun presses a soft kiss to the vein, barely brushing his skin. He feels it again, the pulse racing only a hair beneath his lips. 

This is what he’s meant for, what his heart calls him to do— and it should be something violent, an act of destruction, but it feels so much more personal than the mindless way his teeth puncture the plastic as he slowly, shakily, bites down into the soft skin of Yangyang’s wrist and draws the first drop of blood from his vein. _Oh._ It’s warm. It’s so different, the way he can feel the vein pulsing against his li— 

Yangyang gasps, eyes fluttering open as he looks up to watch. Dejun pulls away instantly, a drop of blood falling from his lips. 

“Does it hurt? I’m sorry,” he rushes. “I told you, I shouldn’t have— that was stupid—”

“No,” Yangyang breathes. He laughs softly. “It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt.”

Dejun blinks. “Really?”

“Really,” Yangyang repeats. He lets his arm fall back down, the tentative bite mark welling with blood. He looks up at it where it rests above his head on the pillow. “You better take care of that before it gets on the pillow,” he teases. 

Fuck it. Dejun doesn’t need to be told twice. He ducks back down, sneaking one last kiss on Yangyang’s cheek before capturing his wrist between his teeth, everything else melting away. 

☽

Yangyang is way too proud of his bite mark. 

“You have to cover it up,” Dejun insists. “We aren’t going out in public with you like that!”

“What?” Yangyang pouts. “Why? It’s cool!”

“Are you _stupid?_ If the wrong people see that, both of us are dead. I sure hope you aren’t dense enough to show that to Donghyuck. I bit you on the wrist so that you could _hide_ it, not so that you could show it off to all your friends,” Dejun exclaims, exasperatedly running a hand through his hair. “If you want to go to the club, you better put on something long sleeved, or I’m cancelling on Kunhang.”

After putting it off for most of the summer _,_ Dejun has finally reached out to some of his friends from class, answering the latest of Kunhang’s many drunk texts inviting him out for a night in Hongdae. He was careful to explain that this was not going to be a repeat of last time, and confessed to Kunhang that he was with someone now, but Kunhang had replied enthusiastically anyways, eager to meet Yangyang and hang out with the both of them. When Dejun told Yangyang about the prospect of going out with a friend, Yangyang agreed instantly— but now it’s the day of their plans, and Dejun has had to veto outfit after outfit idea because his newfound _date_ insists on showing off his vampire bite mark. 

“Fine,” Yangyang whines. “I get it, I get it. But can I at leeeeast show it to Ten? He already knows about you anyways, I had to explain to him why I need his help stealing blood bags every other week.”

“Fine,” Dejun sighs. 

Ten is meeting them at the club— Yangyang’s alleged best friend, the med student with a job doing plasma research that they’ve been using to get Dejun’s lunches for the past month. Dejun is eager to meet him; he hasn’t met anyone new in a while, and anyone Yangyang is friends with is bound to be entertaining at the very least. Also, Dejun owes him a major thank you. 

The summer has flown by. It feels like over a year ago that Dejun was finishing his exams and making the midnight run into the city that changed everything and got him into this situation. In a weird way, he owes the best parts of his life to dying… funny how the universe works. 

“Does this look okay?”

Now he’s just got on a black tee shirt, the collar patterned with some misspelled English lettering— probably another ironic purchase, Yangyang speaks perfect English and is well aware of the grammar mistakes in the streetwear he buys but he thinks it’s funny— and he’s thrown his favorite jacket over it, a faux racing jacket, with what appear to be leather pants. Dejun didn’t even know Yangyang owned leather pants. Are those _his_ pants? 

“Honestly, you look a bit ridiculous,” Dejun tells him, “But good, somehow, and it covers your arm, so as long as you’re planning on keeping that jacket on, it’s good enough for me. Now let’s _go—_ I told Kunhang we’d meet him outside of the station in fifteen. We’re gonna be so late.” 

“Not if we go now!”

Yangyang shoves at his arm playfully, closing the closet door and pulling Dejun up from the bed where he’s been patiently waiting, trying to hide the nervous jiggle of his leg. They haven’t gone out together yet— they’ve recently braved the twenty four hour cafe, and gotten some late night meals at the local restaurants, but they haven’t gone _out_ out. Into the city, amongst the rest of the real world. For all his excitement, Dejun is terribly nervous. There are so many things that could go wrong, so many factors that could end with one of them getting hurt, and above all of that, Dejun’s just nervous that Yangyang’s finally going to realize that dating a vampire is a lot more work than dating a normal person and he’s going to get tired of all of the risks and the inconveniences.

“You ready to party?” Yangyang asks, eyes glinting with trouble like they tend to do when he’s excited.

“Would you be mad if I said I’m not sure?” Dejun asks, letting Yangyang pull him to his feet and tug him out the door. As they approach the main entrance, Louis skitters out from whatever corner he was hiding in, pausing to bare his fangs at them in a concerned hiss.

“It’ll be fine. You worry too much,” Yangyang smiles at him. He laughs, waggling his finger jokingly at the cat. “Sorry, mister fangs. You’re not coming with us!”

They’ve really come full circle, huh. It was only ever supposed to be about the cat.

☽

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

“What? I can’t hear you,” Yangyang slurs.

“The bathroom!” Dejun shouts over the pounding bass, pointing his finger in its general direction. He thinks.

“Oooh, have fun!” Yangyang laughs. “I’ll stay here... with my new best friend! Kunhangggg… Hey, where’d he go?”

They’re so, so drunk. Dejun should never have introduced Yangyang to Kunhang. The two of them hit it off instantly, both ambitious drinkers and people with a much higher social battery than Dejun. They’ve made their way to two clubs already, just finishing up at the bar at the third, redeeming their ‘free drink upon entry’ tickets and never stopping for a moment. Ten is equally as energetic, egging the others on; Dejun doesn’t know what he was expecting, but what he got was essentially Yangyang 2.0. 

It’s been fun, though. A lot of fun. Dejun hasn’t gotten to have such a normal sort of crazy in a long time, and it feels good. The alcohol is doing a number on him, though, and god, he seriously needs to find a bathroom. It’s so crowded in here.

He wanders around, pushing his way through the crowd, fighting to make his way across the dance floor to get to the restrooms, growing increasingly dizzy as he stumbles past the speakers. Everything is spinning.

Something’s wrong… 

Uh-oh. Maybe it’s the alcohol messing with his senses, but all of a sudden he feels it— the teeth. His fangs. They’re poking at his gums. He’s salivating. _Why is he salivating? Why is he suddenly… thirsty?_

He breaks out of the crowd and runs into the bathroom, gripping the nearest sinktop and screwing his eyes shut. It’s gonna be okay. He can control this. He’s not even hungry, he can’t be— not after the other night, there’s no way. He’s just drunk and his vampire senses are malfunctioning. It’ll go away in a second, he’s got it, as long as nobody bothers him— 

“Hey there, cutie,” says a guy with bubblegum pink hair, sauntering right up behind him. “You don’t look so good.” 

God. Dejun is so not interested, not in general but _especially_ not right now. He’s starting to remember why he swore off clubbing. The guys around here are the _worst._

“Leave me alone, asshole,” Dejun stammers, making eye contact through their reflections in the mirror— but then he freezes when he hears it. His lisp. _Fuck._

The guy in the mirror narrows his eyebrows as he watches Dejun’s fangs slide through his gums. 

☽

This might be the second time Dejun dies in an alleyway.

The pink-haired guy shoves him up against the wall, a gloved hand pressing his knife to Dejun’s throat. “Well,” he smirks. “What do you know. We finally caught you, motherfucker. I like a good chase, but I was getting tired of playing around with this one.” 

“I’m not—” Dejun struggles against his grip “— you’ve got the wrong guy, I didn’t hurt anyone,” he insists. “I’m not whoever you’re looking for!”

“Oh yeah?” Calls the other, ashy-brown hair glinting silver under the white light of the street lamp, flecks of blood splattered across his cheek as he raises an eyebrow. “So you’re not a vampire, then?”

“I— look, it’s not like that,” he pleads. “I don’t hurt people. I didn’t hurt anyone!”

“Sure,” sneers the bubblegum guy, hot breath tickling Dejun’s ear. He squirms, which only results in the gloved hand moving from his shoulder to grasp him by the throat. “You’ve got two fangs, no pulse, and no excuses, kid.”

 _Kid?_ If anything, Dejun is older than bubblegum head over here, but whatever— that’s not the priority right now. The priority is not dying again. Which Dejun is not doing a very good job of.

“I’m not the vampire you’re hunting,” he pleads, trying to get his soju-filled brain to function properly so he can convince them not to stick that piece of wood into his chest. “You’re looking for someone else! I swear.”

“Even if we are,” the other tells him, approaching slowly, stake in hand, “Getting rid of you is still on our to do list. You’re vermin at best.”

He traces the stake along Dejun’s ribcage, drawing patterns in the fabric of his shirt while his friend tightens his grip around Dejun’s neck. It’s getting hard to breathe. Dejun is pretty sure he can’t die from choking anymore, but he can absolutely die from that stupid stick, and he’s starting to think that these guys are going to take him out right here behind the club. _God, he’s going to die listening to EDM._

His head spins, the lack of oxygen still threatening to make him lose consciousness as he struggles to fight his way to freedom. In the back of his head, something tells Dejun that he could probably beat them if he just gave in, if he let the teeth out and just let the bloodlust take over; but the thought of hurting even the people who are literally trying to kill him is still awful. He won’t do it. He would rather let them kill him first. 

He closes his eyes, determined to keep himself from hurting anyone else before his second life is cut short, when suddenly a drunken voice rings out in the distance.

“What the fuck? That’s my _date!_ ”

Standing at the entrance to the alley, holding a half-empty soju bottle in his hand, is the one and only Liu Yangyang.

“Yangyang,” Dejun chokes, the asshole’s knife blade pressing further up against his skin as the stake guy elbows him in the ribcage. 

“Dejun?” Yangyang cries, ditching the bottle and running closer to the scene. “Woah. Hold up. Jaemin? _Renjun?_ What the hell?”

The pink haired guy frowns. “Yangyang? The hell are you doing here?”

“I was on a date,” Yangyang says, “With the guy you’re currently trying to murder! What are _you_ doing here?” 

“This guy is a vampire!”

“Yeah, I’m aware!” Yangyang shoves him off, the bubblegum haired guy who Dejun is now realizing is _oh, Jaemin, one of Donghyuck’s friends_ releasing his grip on Dejun’s throat. The other friend, Renjun, steps aside, still brandishing the stake.

And then, as if they weren’t in enough of a mess, another voice bursts into the alley, loud and inquisitive.

“Jaemin, Renjun, I found the— wait, _Yangyang?_ What the _hell?_ ” 

Dejun glances over his shoulder, still struggling to steady himself, and he’s still so drunk and his head is still so busted that he nearly laughs. 

It’s Lee Donghyuck. 

“What’s—” Donghyuck steps out from the side exit behind them, gaping. He looks at Yangyang, who’s still holding Dejun up as he catches his breath. He looks at Renjun, still poised with a stake up to Dejun’s chest, and Jaemin gripping his knife. And then he looks at Dejun, who, despite it all, still has not managed to will his fangs back into his gums. 

“What the fuck, Yangyang? Your boyfriend is a _vampire?_ ”

“Wait, hold on,” Dejun splutters, “I’m your _boyfriend?”_

☽

Donghyuck doesn’t like it— his friends _hate_ it— but by the miracle that is Yangyang’s talking-his-way-out-of-it ability, Dejun does not end up getting murdered. 

Instead, they all end up back in Yangyang’s living room, declaring it a neutral territory as the chaos erupts. 

“Why did you guys go to a vampire club?” Donghyuck cries, exasperated as he lectures his roommate. “That’s, like, the last place to go if you don’t want people to know you’re a vampire!”

“I had no idea it was a vampire club!” Yangyang protests. “How the hell would I know which clubs are vampire clubs!”

“Well, _Liquid_ certainly is,” Jaemin juts in. “It’s the favorite club of the biggest coven in the city. We were there on business trying to catch the coven leader, who, in my defense, does look a bit like your boyfriend.” 

“Maybe without your glasses on,” Renjun rolls his eyes. “I should never have listened to you when you told me you caught the coven leader in the fucking bathroom, you idiot.”

“How was I supposed to kno—”

“Oh my god, enough!” Donghyuck puts his head in his hands dramatically, then looks up at Dejun. “I still can’t believe it. You’ve been a vampire this entire time, and I never noticed. I fucking suck at my job, huh?”

Dejun laughs. “I dunno, but I’m quite relieved that you haven’t killed me. Which, uh. Where are we on that?” 

“Killing you?” Donghyuck frowns. “I still haven’t decided.”

“Oh, come on,” Yangyang insists. “I get that it’s hard to believe that you could be nice to one of the things you kill for a living, but Dejun isn’t a monster. He’s not one of the creatures you hunt. He’s a person, and a really damn good one!” Yangyang grabs his hand. “I think we can all understand that we’re on the same side here, so can we come to an agreement?”

“What sort of agreement do you have in mind?” Jaemin asks.

Dejun looks back and forth between the three hunters. “Look, I’m not asking for much… I just want you to think of me as a human. A human who needs some dental work with a really weird diet. I want to be on your side, alright? Like, not necessarily helping you guys kill things, but on your team nonetheless. I can help you if you let me. I want to see the killers and the monsters taken care of just as much as you guys do, you have to understand that. They chose to be monsters. I’ve chosen my humanity.”

Renjun smiles. “Poetic. I like it.” 

“Bit pretentious, but yeah,” Jaemin nods. “A vampire ally could come in handy. I can work with that.”

Yangyang grins, glancing over at his roommate. “Hyuck? What do you say?”

Donghyuck sighs. “Fine. I will make one exception in my career, and this is it.” He shifts his glance back to Dejun, pointing at him with the wooden stake. “But only as long as you stick to your end of the deal, Dejun. If you can’t keep up the vegan act and you end up hurting anyone, especially Yangyang, I will not hesitate to stick this directly into your heart. Are we clear?” 

“We’re clear,” Dejun agrees. 

If he ever hurt Yangyang, he would probably just walk right over and ask Donghyuck to kill him anyways. 

“God,” Donghyuck sighs. “I still can’t believe this. I should have known. Even Jeno told me he was picking up on some weird energy in the apartment, I should have listened to the witch…”

The witch? That blonde guy was a _witch?_

“Well, to be fair, that might have been the cat,” Yangyang points out. 

Donghyuck’s expression turns sour. “What? What did you do to the cat?”

Dejun can’t help it; he bursts into laughter.

☽

If someone had told Dejun at the start of the year that he would spend the last weekend of his summer as a vampire having a movie marathon with a witch, some vampire hunters, an undead cat, and his boyfriend, Dejun wouldn’t even know which part of that sentence he would think was the craziest. And yet, none of it is crazy, because that’s exactly what he’s doing. 

The end of the summer is upon them, August heat fading as quickly as it had built as the wind carries the first hint of autumn into the city. As a peace offering, Dejun invited Donghyuck and company to watch a movie at his apartment with him and Yangyang. And Louis, of course. 

After weeks, no, _months_ of rigorous practice, the vampire cat has been successfully de-fanged. Not literally, of course. He’s just been house trained, taught not to bite the guests and to behave around living breathing humans. Dejun owes most of their success to Yangyang, who turned out to be a pretty creative pet trainer. Because of his inventive training methods, they’ve managed to domesticate a four legged vampire. (She still bites Donghyuck sometimes, though. None of them can figure out why.)

The credits are rolling on Train to Busan, sparking a debate on whether or not zombies are real. None of the hunters have ever met one, and Donghyuck thinks they’re all bullshit, but according to Renjun there “are a lot of historical records that indicate the existence of zombies documented by multiple civilizations” and just because they haven’t killed one doesn’t mean there aren’t any, and that whole conversation erupts into an argument between the four of them while Yangyang and Dejun share a knowing glance, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous it is to watch the others bicker. 

Everything about Dejun’s life is ridiculous, from being a vampire in the first place to ending up with Yangyang to befriending four guys who kill his kind to pay their tuition. There’s almost no semblance of normality left, but despite it all, being around them is what makes him feel like he’s still human. 

As the night gets later and borders on morning, Donghyuck and the others head out again, all already equipped with hunting gear, never taking a night off. They’ve got places to be and things to kill, and Dejun wishes them luck, closing the door behind them. He turns back to find Yangyang staring fondly at the screen where another movie has started to play, a woman running through the sand on screen with the sunlight glimmering on her face. Yangyang turns, giving him a curious look.

“Do you miss the sun?” he asks. 

Xiao Dejun may be a vampire, but he doesn’t mind. It doesn’t mean he has to throw his moral compass out the window. He has no need to start ripping out throats, be it human or animal— not with Liu Yangyang by his side. Yangyang makes Dejun feel like a human, despite all of his vampire qualities. He makes being a vampire feel easy. Even living in the darkness feels bright as long as he’s around. 

“I don’t need the sun,” Dejun says. “I have you.”

☽ 

**Author's Note:**

> wayv adopting a cat while i was writing this was like stars aligning lol
> 
> ☼ ☽ 
> 
> wow! thank you for reading this thing! i had the time of my life writing it and i'm so happy about the reactions i've gotten so far as of weishenfest reveals. if you liked this one, i highly encourage you to check out the rest of the anything but human collection for more inhumanly good reading material!


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